


The Infinite

by Skyson



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Agents in Space, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comic Book Science, Coulson x Mace, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance, Song Inspired, Supernatural Elements, future SHIELD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-02-09 07:58:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12883485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: Turns out, dying in the Framework does not always quite equate dying in real life - while the real body did expire, the “data” did not. It simply has nowhere to return to. So when they “pulled the plug” on Jeffrey Mace in the Framework, his data went out, into space.  The stars, the universe, everywhere and nowhere all at once.He has become waves of energy, able to traverse unimaginable distances through various wavelengths of electricity, light, and matter. The one thing he cannot do is return to corporeal existence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally feel comfortable enough to write a fic inspired by what many of us Jeffrey Mace fans have dubbed “his song” (and approved by the man himself!) - “Saturn” by Sleeping At Last
> 
> It’s an honorific “sayonara song” for many of us, but much like PAST LIVES I yet again couldn’t bring myself to write a true goodbye fic. So here’s a Marvel Goodbye, in that it’s never really goodbye (also, impossible supernatural stuff explaining survival. Yay, comic books!)
> 
> This was begun before December and many of the released previews, so only loosely inspired by early understandings of what Season 5 would entail.

_You taught me the courage of stars_  
_Before you left_  
_How life carries on_  
_Endlessly_  
_Even after death_  
_With shortness of breath_  
_You explained_  
_The Infinite_  
_How rare and beautiful it is_  
_To even exist_  
_I couldn’t help but ask_  
_You to say it all again_  
_I tried to write it down_  
_But I could never find a pen_  
_I’d given anything to hear_  
_You say it one more time_  
_That the universe was made_  
_Just to be seen by my eyes_  
_I couldn’t help but ask_  
_You to say it all again_  
_I tried to write it down_  
_But I could never find a pen_  
_I’d give anything to hear_  
_You say it one more time_  
_That the universe was made_  
_Just to be seen by my eyes_  
_With shortness of breath_  
_I’ll explain_  
_The Infinite_  
_How rare_  
_And beautiful_  
_It truly is_  
_That we exist_

* * *

 

 

“You’re here! Agent Coulson of SHIELD! You’ve come to save us!”

“Yeah - just to clarify; where is here, who is us, and from what?” Coulson demanded.

“We’re the True Believers,”

“Of what?”

“You.” The young man answered as if it were obvious. Daisy and Coulson shared an incredulous look. “He told us you would be here!” The young man continued excitedly.

“Who?”

“The Voice!” His inflection told them that he’d meant that as a proper noun. Daisy and Coulson glanced at one another again, warily.

“The _what_?” Daisy asked, bewildered.

“He’s managed to keep us alive so far, but he promised us you would come, to help us actually escape this place. And you’re here!”

“Who is this Voice? What are you talking about — are you in some sort of weird, like, Coulson-Cult? Is The Voice your leader?” Daisy asked.

“We don’t _worship_ you,” He laughed as if that idea were ridiculous, and Daisy folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrow. “We simply believe what The Voice tells us, as opposed to the others. The Voice is not our leader, but he does guide us sometimes. He’s helped us many times already, but there’s only so much he can do.”

“Well, where is this guy? Maybe we need to meet him; get some clear explanations about - well, everything.” Coulson suggested.

“That’s not possible,”

“Why the hell not?” Daisy demanded, but just as he opened his mouth again, a feral scream echoed down the hallway.

It wasn’t human.

“What the hell was that?”

“Language!” Coulson chided her, frowning.

The man they were speaking with widened his eyes and gripped their arms briefly.

“Run! _Now_!” He ordered, and turned on his heel and bolted down the hallway.

Coulson and Daisy hesitated, but only briefly, because some _thing_ suddenly slid into view down at the other end of the hall, and turned to look at them.

“ _What_ the _hell_ —!”

Coulson grabbed Daisy’s shoulder, cutting off her words as he took off after the other guy, leading her along with him.

“I think it’s safe to guess that’s what they need saved from!” Coulson sassed as the three of them ran.

“One of them, yeah!” The prisoner replied distractedly.

“There’s _more_?” Daisy groaned.

“Oh, we feature all kinds of monsters, here,” He called over his shoulder, a harried grin on his face.

“ _Monsters_?” Daisy hissed at Coulson, who pursed his lips and shook his head.

“In here, quick,” The young man grabbed onto a door handle and half slid past it before his grip yanked his body to a full stop. He scrambled to push it open and barreled through without hesitation, Daisy and Coulson right behind him. He slammed the door closed and put his finger to his lips, indicating they be as quiet as possible even as their shoulders heaved from exertion.

“Those particular lovelies are fast, but their precision is shit. They can’t stop or turn on a dime, so as long as we zig-zag, we can get away from them,” He explained quietly, his ear against the door to listen for footsteps in the hall.

Daisy and Coulson glanced around the room they were hiding in, quickly assessing that it was safe. It was medium sized, mostly empty; what few boxes were strewn about seemed to be holding various machine parts that looked entirely unfamiliar.

“My name’s Virgil, by the way,” Their guide straightened and stuffed his hands into his pockets, relaxing.

“This place is some kind of space station, right? Why are you here?” Daisy wondered, and he smirked a little.

“I’m the welcoming committee.” He shrugged, and left it at that.

“Alright, Virgil,” Coulson focused on him once more and drew on all of his Director persona. “Know where we can find some weapons to defeat these things?”

“Defeat them? Ha, no.” He shook his head, and Daisy narrowed her eyes, folding her arms across her chest.

“What are you saying; they can’t be killed?”

“Well, they _can_.” Virgil amended hesitantly. “But it’s not easy. Most of what I’ve seen only stun them. Stun-and-Run, that’s the rule.”

“Fine, okay - what about our friends? Know where they might be?” Coulson pressed. They needed to deal with one thing at a time.

“The fast chick and the big guy? Yeah, I can hazard a guess. And you can meet the rest of the Believers!” Virgil gestured excitedly, and opened the door to peer out into the hall.

It was empty and quiet, so they hurried away while they had the chance, trusting this strange man not to lead them right into the monster den.

**———**

“Coulson!” Mack called out in relief as the three of them strolled into the cavernous room.

Coulson had no guess as to what it could have been previously, but it was now set up to be a kind of common room, with various mismatched tables, chairs, boxes, and crates strewn together to create some seating.

The strangers that stood about the room started murmuring to one another, staring at Coulson and Daisy as the two quickly approached their teammate.

“Mack,” Daisy sighed with relief, giving him a quick hug in greeting. “Do you know where anyone else— ”

“Daisy and Coulson!” Elena appeared at Mack’s side suddenly, interrupting and answering Daisy’s question. She smiled widely at them.

“What about Simmons, and Fitz? May?” Coulson checked, and Mack and Elena glanced at one another rather warily.

“Jemma is here; she’s just gone out with some of the men to grab one of the dead aliens in the hall. She wants to study it.” Elena explained. Nothing else was said, and Coulson raised his eyebrow.

“Alright?” He pressed for more.

“We don’t know about Fitz, or May,” Mack admitted.

“Damn,” Coulson muttered, thinking quickly. “Alright. We need to regroup. Figure out a way to defend ourselves, so we can go back out there and look for our people.”

“You remember when I said we don’t have any weapons capable of defeating the monsters,” Virgil spoke up.

“Yeah, but you said this Voice of yours kept you safe. Helped you out. Why did you say it was impossible for us to speak with him?” Daisy questioned.

“It’s not impossible to _speak_ to him — it’s just impossible for you to _meet_ him.” Virgil clarified, and Mack frowned deeply as he folded his arms across his chest.

“I’ve asked these nut-jobs around here about this Voice,” Mack explained somewhat quietly to Coulson, “and I haven’t gotten a straight answer out of any of them.”

“He speaks to us over the radio,” Virgil told them, “And not cool, man; we’re not nut-jobs.” Daisy shared a look with Elena.

“So how do you know he’s not a guard, or one of the guys that sent us all here in the first place? How do you know his intentions?” Daisy pointed out.

“We didn’t trust him at first,” Virgil shrugged. “But he earned it. He saved us,”

“ _How_ ,” Mack interrupted, “if all he can do is talk to you?”

“Well, that’s not quite _all_ he can do.” Virgil said, his eyes lighting up. “He can override the entire electrical system. He’s blasted music over all the speakers to help confuse the monsters, give us time to hide. Or to attract attention toward another area of base while we move. He’s also cut out the lights for us when we’ve needed it, cut off the gravitational pull, even opened up a few windows during the more... close-call battles.”

“That’s what happened when I arrived,” Coulson realized, “he’d opened a window to vacuum out monsters that had gotten into that room?”

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, looking pleased that Coulson was following along.

“Are you serious? You’ve got a _radio dj_ saving your asses out here?” Mack scoffed.  
 

> _Radio DJ, huh? Oh, how the mighty fall...._

  
Coulson jerked his head around to look behind him, but no one was standing there.

“What’s up?” Daisy wondered, following his line of sight. “Did the giant space bug find us again?”

“I um...” Nah. He was just exhausted, and everything that had happened was probably starting to catch up to him now. “Nothing.”

Daisy eyeballed him like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t press.

“So, how can we contact him, then? Do you have walkies, or a transmitter, or...?” Daisy questioned, and Virgil shook his head.

“He hears us.”

“What, like, all the time?” Daisy frowned, then muttered thoughtfully, “So there’s probably microphones all over the place...” She glanced sideways in Virgil’s direction. “And you’re _sure_ he’s not some kind of prison guard?”

“Agent Coulson! Daisy!” Jemma’s voice echoed across the room, interrupting Virgil’s answer, and she said something quietly to one of the men she was with before she jogged over to the group.

“Simmons,” Coulson smiled at Jemma as she hugged Daisy, relieved to see her unharmed. “You went back out there? What in the world for?”

“When I first got here, I was in some kind of room with a bunch of dead... things.” Jemma explained. “Deke found me and brought me back here; on the way we’d run into Mack and Elena. I’ve been talking with him about their monsters, and I figured that if the bunch I had seen were all dead, they couldn’t be _that_ impossible to kill. I want to study them and see how they died, so we might have a fighting chance to get out of this place.”

“You could have gotten hurt,” Coulson chided.

“Nah, I had her back,” One of the guys she’d walked in with approached them, a wide smile on his face. “She’s the first competent scientist we’ve had here in a long time, so I figured she might be on the right track with this. Besides,” He laughed, “If anyone can figure out how to kill these things, Dr. Jemma Simmons can.”

“Let me guess,” Daisy spoke up wryly, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re a True Believer?”

“You bet your ass I am! And look — here you all are. The Voice was right, and now all those morons over there are kicking themselves for not believing with us,” Deke gestured his head toward a corner of the room where a significant group of people were gathered, watching them all suspiciously.

“Wait wait wait,” Coulson closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to organize his thoughts. “How long have you been here, Simmons?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. It’s hard to distinguish the passage of time, here. Probably a few hours, by now?”

“A few _hours_?” Daisy blurted, staring at Coulson. “We’ve been here _maybe_ for thirty minutes, tops.”

Jemma nodded, as if that made sense to her.

“The monolith must have transported us at different rates, though I’m not sure why. I ran into Deke and then Mack and Elena perhaps an hour after I’d arrived.”

“And we’d just arrived, pretty much right in front of her,” Mack put in.

“Huh.” Coulson frowned. “So there’s not really rhyme or reason to it? Perhaps Fitz and May just haven’t arrived yet.”

“Hopefully.” Daisy added dryly.

Deke shared a deeply worried look with Virgil, and Coulson narrowed his eyes at them.

“What’s that face for? What do you know?” He demanded.

“Well,” Deke explained, somewhat hesitantly, “Dr. Simmons was right about the difficulty telling time around here. There’s no day or night. But over time we’ve been able to distinguish certain patterns in the way the monsters hunt. They have some kind of internal clock system; they go through periods of higher activity. There are a few hours a day where they are practically entirely dormant. So we live based around that schedule.”

“Okay...” Mack pressed.

“We’re nearing the time of highest activity. It’s far too dangerous to leave this room, now. At least for the next few hours.” Virgil informed them.

“But how do you know, if you can’t judge the passing time?” Elena questioned, and Virgil pointed toward the ceiling.

“Listen,” He said, and they were all silent. None of them heard anything, outside of the shuffles and murmuring from the other people in the room.

“I don’t hear anything,” Coulson said.  
  


> _Exactly._

  
“That’s the point,” Virgil replied, and Coulson blinked for a moment as he thought he heard someone else again. “The Brood hunt mostly by sound. They’re mildly easier to kill than The Sidri, but they often hunt individually with more tactic so if you don’t get the upper hand quickly, they’re smart motherfuckers. This area of the base is under lock-down for the time being. I’m sure The Voice is blasting his music somewhere on the other side of the station, drawing attention away from the populated areas.”

“The what, and the _what_?” Daisy wondered incredulously.

“What we saw in the hallway was a Sidrian Hunter,” Virgil explained. “Fast, but not agile.”

“The giant space roach?” Mack grimaced, watching as four men carried a similar-looking limp form over to the side of the room and hoisted it up onto a table.

“Right,” Deke nodded, smirking.

“So what’s The Brood, then?” Coulson wondered, and Deke’s smile dropped.

“Scarier. Smarter. Nastier.” He answered, and Virgil nodded in agreement, looking a bit haunted now.

“So we wait here, in silence, until The Voice lets us know that the worst of the danger has passed.”

“If May or Fitz are out there right now, we can’t just—”

“We _have_ to wait.” Deke interrupted Coulson seriously. “And hope that they’re safe. We can’t risk all of us dying in the process.”

“Anyway, The Voice will guide them.” Virgil added confidently, and Mack rolled his eyes.

“You people have been breathing the air too long,” He grumbled, mocking, “The Voice.”

“He saved us,” Deke frowned, jutting his finger in Mack’s direction. “And he’s been keeping us alive for a long time. Damn it, he predicted your own arrival!”

“Alright, alright,” Coulson held his hands out toward both men. “Cool it.” He sighed, and then decided, “We’ll do it your way. But when I decide that I’ve waited long enough, I’m leaving. I’ve still got people somewhere out there.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Deke nodded seriously. “In the meantime, let me show you what few weapons we’ve managed to scrounge. They don’t do much to really hurt the aliens, but they stun them pretty well and give us some extra time to get away,”

Coulson shared a look with Daisy and Mack, nodded at them, then followed Deke across the room.

**———  
**   


> _Fitz isn’t here._

  
Coulson jerked his head around again, but the others were focused on eating. Virgil was the only one watching him carefully.

“I’ve seen you do that a few times, now.” Virgil spoke around his food, swallowing it before he continued, “You’re hearing him, aren’t you? The Voice?”

“I —” Coulson furrowed his brow.

“Like a head-voice that isn’t your own, yeah?” Virgil pointed toward his own head, and took another bite of food.

“Yeah...” Coulson agreed carefully, not sure that he wanted to agree with this, and Virgil brightened.

“Of course he would speak to _you_ directly — I should have considered warning you! It can be jarring at first, but you’d be surprised how used to it you become.” Virgil told him casually, and Coulson blinked owlishly at him.

“Does he speak to you like this? I thought it was just through the speakers?” He asked carefully, keeping his voice low so his team wouldn’t overhear their conversation.

“Oh, it is, now,” Virgil nodded. “But before he figured out how to use the radios, he spoke to a few of us directly. Not me; by the time I got here, he’d already resorted to using the space station itself for communication. I heard that supposedly the direct-contact gave guys massive headaches — and supposedly, one guy even accidentally fried his brain!”

“What?!” Coulson hissed, a brief shot of terror shooting down his spine. If this Voice could fry their brains on a whim, what was stopping him from doing so? How could they _really_ trust this entity that they couldn’t see or touch?  
 

> _Don’t worry, Phil, I won’t fry your brain._

  
That, and the chuckle that followed, made Coulson strangle out a gasp and drop his fork atop his plate with a clatter. The rest of the team stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.

“You okay, Coulson? Do I need to do the Heimlich on you?” Daisy wondered, looking at him with mild concern. He could only imagine the facial expression he was making.  
 

> _It was a very unfortunate accident... I felt horrible for days, although the guy never blamed me for it. After that, I figured out how to override the communication systems on the ship._

  
“What — what—” Coulson was starting to panic a little, but he couldn’t grasp on a single question to begin on.  
 

> _Anyway, did you know your prosthetic has it’s own energy signature? It’s different than anything else I’ve encountered, yet... Amazing, really. And more importantly, allows me to speak to you without anyone else intruding — and without the whole headache thing._

  
“I’m — I’m losing my mind,” Coulson muttered, scrambling to his feet. “All the shit I’ve dealt with over the years— it’s finally catching up with me.”  
   

> _I promise you’re not crazy, Phil,_

  
“Stop! Stop doing that!” Coulson interrupted loudly, only vaguely noticing when his team shared wary looks with one another. Coulson turned his back to them and stepped from the table a few paces, gripping his prosthetic wrist with his real hand. “You’re not him!” He hissed. “That’s not _fair_ , you can’t just _take_ his voice!”  
 

> _I’m not ‘taking’ anything._

  
The Voice sounded vaguely annoyed, now, but Phil gripped his wrist even tighter.

“I don’t care if you thought it would be familiar, easier, whatever — it’s _not_. _Not_ his voice. Do something else, I don’t care what — this isn’t fair to the team, they aren’t going to find it easier to listen to you, I can’t ...” Coulson breathed in deeply. “You think I’m going to trust you when you use the voice of a _dead_ man?”  
  

> _This is **my**  voice, you asshole._

  
The Voice insisted firmly, and Coulson froze in place. He could feel everyone’s eyes on his back, but he ignored them.

“Your voice?” He repeated.  
  


> _Yes, and I can’t promise the ‘going crazy’ thing, anymore, because I’m pretty sure the team is convinced you’ve just had an episode._

  
“I...” Once again Coulson found himself flummoxed. “Why are you only speaking to me?”  
  

> _I wanted to break the news slowly. Apparently, it didn’t work so well._

  
“And they... they really can’t hear you?” He whispered, glancing over his shoulder. His team, Deke, and Virgil were all still staring at him, various levels of gaping expressions on their faces.  
  


> _Not currently._

  
“Is this...real?” Coulson breathed out in wonder. “.... Jeffrey? ...How?”

“Phil?” Daisy spoke up gently from behind Coulson’s shoulder, and he jumped, whirling around to face her. She glanced down to where he still held a death grip around his own wrist. “Are you alright?”

“I...” He swallowed, staring at her wide-eyed. Should he tell her? After what she just witnessed, she probably wouldn’t believe him.

“Is it... this Voice?” She asked hesitantly, keeping her voice low so that only Coulson could hear her. “Is it speaking to you?”  
  


> _It? I’m not an it._

  
“He,” Coulson corrected automatically, and Daisy raised her eyebrows at him. “Um... yeah, I think he did. It uh, it surprised me for a minute.”

“Surprised us, too,” She replied wryly, and his smirk didn’t hold any humor in it. “You said to stop doing that,” She frowned worriedly. “Stop doing what? Something about taking a voice?”

“I’m not sure if it’s...” Coulson breathed deeply for a moment. “I guess he thought it would be easier if he sounded familiar.”

“And apparently not?”

“Not really, no.”  
  


> _I told you, I didn’t steal anyone’s voice!_

  
“I um, I think I need to lie down,” Coulson said quickly, and Daisy glanced back toward Virgil and gestured for him to come over. He joined them immediately, looking at Coulson closely.

“How are you feeling? Headache?” He asked, and Coulson nodded a little.

His head didn’t really hurt, but he felt lightheaded for different reasons.

“Don’t worry, The Voice knows not to speak directly for too long. Come on, I’ll show you where you can bunk up for the night.” Virgil patted his shoulder and gestured he follow toward a different doorway. “I’ll give you a private room for now; I’ve heard it can be pretty difficult to get used to having two people inside of one head.”

“Thanks,” Coulson muttered, following along as Virgil led him into a smaller hallway with lots of doors.

“Here you are,” Virgil opened a door at the end of the hall, gesturing Coulson to enter first. “Room with a view!” He grinned a little before showing Coulson the little control bay and what switch did what.

“Thank you...” Coulson sighed, and Virgil nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“We’ll come get you in the morning before we head out to find the rest of the your team,” Virgil promised. “Get some rest.”

Once Virgil left and closed the door behind him, Coulson settled onto the edge of the bed that was soldered to the side of the wall.

It was quiet other than the low hum from the space station power, and Coulson groaned and propped his elbows on his knees, pressing his hands against his face.  
 

> _I know this is hard to believe, but I promise that it really is me. Or... what’s left, anyway._

  
The Voice — impossibly, the voice of Jeffrey Mace — spoke softer, now, aware of Coulson’s distress.  
  

> _When I first arrived, these people... were entirely hopeless. They had nothing to live for; they were merely waiting for their turn to get mauled by the monsters. I was confused and terrified but I knew one thing — I wanted to help them. I wanted to give them hope._

  
“But— how? And why me?” Coulson wondered. “Why was I the one you told these people about? Why not Daisy, with her powers, or even FitzSimmons, with their science and engineering know-how?”  
  

> _Selfish reasons, I suppose,_

  
The Voice answered eventually. Coulson furrowed his brow, not understanding, and The Voice sighed tiredly.  
  


> _I became... The Voice... almost immediately after that building fell on top of me. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but I had been floating around in space for... a long time. Justifiably, I was confused for a while. Terrified._

  
There was a pause before The Voice continued,  
 

> _It was pure coincidence that brought the first energy wave right by me. At first I thought perhaps it might be a comet, but... I knew. Somehow — I don’t know if it was a feeling, or what — but somehow I knew it was human. So when the same sort of feeling passed by me again, I reached out and... touched it. It pulled me here, to the space station. It — he — had no idea that I’d tagged along for the ride. I learned about this place as they did, learned about the monsters that had taken over. I discovered what I could do with the speakers, and earned their trust by helping save them from the monsters. Over the years I told them stories, stories of all that I could remember from Earth. Stories of you._

  
“Wait,” Coulson spoke up before he could continue. “What do you mean, ‘over the years’? It’s been... we just got out of the Framework pretty much right before we were kidnapped and sent here.”

The Voice was quiet for a long minute.  
  


> _As more people have been sent here to this station, we have learned a few things. One: whoever it is sending people has no idea that the place has been overrun by space bugs. Two: travelers are not only moving through space. They are also moving through time._

  
“ _What_?” Coulson hissed, his mind reeling. That would help explain the different intervals of the team’s arrival, though.  
 

> _I have no way to determine the amount of time that I’ve been here, Phil. Only that I have seen quite a few folks come and go. Long enough that I’ve been given title as some kind of god-like conscience that I have no right to be. Long enough that as my stories of you are passed person to person, you’ve become a savior for them._

  
“Why...” Coulson didn’t know what to ask first, so he repeated his earlier question, “Why me?”   
  


> _I say it was selfish because it was — you’ve always made me feel real, Phil,_

  
The Voice admitted in quiet earnest.  
  


> _So during a time that I’ve felt the most un-real, I thought of you. Of when you believed in me when no one else did. When you gave me courage and hope. When you made me feel like a part of the team,_

  
Shyly, he added,   
  


> _I had a ridiculous notion that if anyone could figure out a way to save me, to bring me back... it could be you. And that hope began to travel through the others._

  
“The True Believers,” Coulson remembered Virgil’s words from earlier.  
 

> _Yes._

  
They were silent again as Coulson processed his words.

“It’s not a ridiculous notion,” Coulson eventually spoke up, surprisingly vehement.  
  


> _What?_

  
“I will find a way to bring you back, Jeffrey. I left you behind once, and I won’t do it again.”  
  


> _Phillip..._

  
The Voice sighed, and Coulson shook his head.

“We can figure out— we can figure out how to make you human again later. But I sure as hell am _not_ leaving you on this station when we all leave.” Coulson thrust his finger out warningly, as if Jeffrey were standing in front of him. The effect was still had. “ _You’re still real_ , to me.” Coulson insisted, his hard tone wavering only slightly. “I’m not giving up on you.”

Jeffrey was quiet for a long moment, but his eventual ‘thank you’ was soft and full of emotion.

“How did you predict our arrival?” Coulson wondered a bit later.  
  


> _I didn’t,_

  
The Voice admitted.  
  


> _It was an impossible dream, but it still gave me hope. Gave the others hope, too, which kept things more or less copacetic around here. I was more surprised than anyone else when you all actually did show up. I have no idea how, or the odds, or... it’s just..._

  
“An impossible dream,” Coulson murmured.  
 

> _Someone sent you here, though? Picked you and the team specifically? Perhaps they can answer that question. Maybe they can somehow listen in on everything that’s happening here._

  
“But if they can hear what’s happening here, why haven’t they sent rescue sooner?” Coulson pointed out. “And why just _us_? Why not full military aid?”  
  

> _I don’t know,_

  
The Voice replied quietly.  
 

> _Maybe it has to do with the time travel. Maybe they can’t hear our transmissions until years later. The speed of light and sound, and all that._

  
“Maybe...” Coulson sighed. This was all beyond exhausting, and hurt his brain in ways not related to The Voice himself.  
 

> _We can talk more later, Phil,_

  
The Voice suggested softly, and Coulson frowned.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,”  
 

> _You need some sleep. This is a lot to take in._

  
“Alright...” Coulson agreed dubiously, and suddenly he heard Elton John playing softly from the speakers in his room.

_And I think it’s gonna be a long, long time_  
_‘Til touchdown brings me ‘round again to find_  
_I’m not the man they think I am at home  
Oh no, no, no; I’m a rocket man_

Coulson snorted, smiling a little as he settled onto his cot. The music was actually pretty soothing, and the familiarity of it settled Coulson into sleep fairly quickly.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Saturn,_ Sleeping At Last  
>  _Rocket Man,_ Elton John


	2. Chapter 2

“So who are you, Deke? What brought you here?” Coulson wondered as they all ate a strange, dried concoction that was called ‘breakfast’.

Since falling asleep to Rocket Man the night before, Coulson hadn’t heard a peep from The Voice, and he was feeling hesitantly more accepting about the whole situation.

“Well, I’m a scav, but, nothing brought me here,” Deke replied around a mouthful of food. He was stuffing his face as if it were fluffy waffles or something, while Mack next to him poked at his food suspiciously.

“What does _that_  mean?” Elena wondered gravely, and Deke swallowed his food before answering,

“I was born here.”

Daisy and Coulson shared a look, and focused more fully on Deke.

“ _Born_  here? Just how _long_  have humans been living here?” Daisy wondered.

“Quite a few decades, right?” Coulson was the one to answer, surprising the others.

“Decades?” Elena repeated. “Yesterday they told us they have been here for years, but I didn’t think they meant _that_  long.”

“How did you guess that?” Mack asked Coulson, and Deke narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Your little episode yesterday, that was The Voice, wasn’t it?” Deke figured. “The two of you have a nice little chat after Virgil walked you out of here?”

“Don’t mind his attitude,” Virgil elbowed his friend, or whatever they were. “He’s just jealous because he’s always wanted a one-on-one with The Voice.”

“But you told me yesterday that it was dangerous,” Coulson pointed out. “It only worked for me because— ” He hesitated, clenching his left fist. He wasn’t sure yet if it was a good idea to tell these two about his prosthetic. Particularly if Deke was a scavenger.

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” Deke muttered, rolling his eyes and ducking his head over his plate again as he returned to shoveling food into his mouth.

“Because you’re _him_ , you’re Phil Coulson,” Virgil nodded enthusiastically, his eyes alight.

Coulson glanced toward his team; they all held smirks of amusement, and he sent them a quick frown, uncomfortable with the attention. If they knew who this Voice really was....

“Look, I don’t know how to say this, but— ” Coulson began.

“We have a problem!” A rather large man burst into the room, shouting across from the doorway. His harried look alarmed Coulson; if this guy was worried about something, it was probably a big something.

“The Brood?” Deke worried, getting to his feet immediately. The other man shook his head as he hurried toward their table.

“No. A hostile, some woman — she knocked out Kevin,”

“May!” Daisy knew, relieved as she dropped her fork and stood as well. “Where?”

“You’re _happy_  about this?” The man demanded incredulously. “If there _had_  been Brood around, Kevin would be dead meat!”

“Agent Melinda May?” Virgil checked, and Coulson nodded, standing.

“It does sound like her,” He admitted, somewhat apologetically. He was too relieved at hearing that she had made it, though. “Where did you last see her?”

“Sector 3,”

“Victor, what the _hell_  were you doing in that sector,” Deke began to scold, and Victor rolled his eyes.

“Look, sometimes those things leave behind goodies — plus, quite a few of our weapons had been left behind the last time we were down there,”

“Yeah — left behind because that place is a fucking death trap! Those who had made it out barely did so with the skin on our backs!” Deke returned.

“Yeah, well, now we’ve got some of our weapons back. You’re welcome.” He grunted, and then turned fully toward Coulson, obviously ignoring Deke now. “If you want to go after her, be my guest.” He turned to walk away, and Daisy called out,

“Wait, where’s Sector 3?”  
 

> _I’ll take you._

  
Coulson jumped, but knew better now then to turn around and hunt for the owner of the voice he was hearing. Even still, Virgil noticed. Coulson gave him a weary look, and sighed.

“I’ll lead the way,” Coulson announced, and Daisy raised her eyebrow at him.

“How will you do that?” Elena wondered.

A speaker in the hall just outside of the room crackled to life, the sound grainy but immediately recognizable,

 _There’s a lady who’s sure_  
_All that glitters is gold  
And she’s buying a stairway to heaven_

“Is that...” Mack slowly stood, glancing sideways at Coulson. He nodded toward his old partner.

“Sooo, we follow Led Zeppelin?” Daisy figured.

“We follow Led Zeppelin.” Coulson confirmed.

“Who’s Led Zeppelin?” Virgil wondered.

“I think I like it,” Deke grinned slowly, and Daisy rolled her eyes.

“You would. Come on, let’s go get May.” She rounded the table to lead the way across the room.

“Sector 3 is dangerous,” Deke warned, grasping her arm to halt her. She glanced down at his hand and then at his face, and he let her go. “At least take some weapons with you,”

“I am the weapon,” Daisy replied with a tiny smirk, and Coulson smiled proudly.

“I wouldn’t mind a little something for backup, though,” Mack piped up, and Deke jogged over toward an area of the room that had been caged off, an older man holed up inside of it.

“Three automatics,” Deke requested.

“Three? Come on, man, you know I can’t — ”

“We’ll bring them all back, I promise.” Deke interrupted. “In fact, I’ll bring you more than what I leave with.”

The old man scoffed, but Deke didn’t budge, and he heaved a long-suffering sigh as he begrudgingly turned to the back of the cage to retrieve a few weapons.

“I’m holding you to this, Deke,” He warned, and Deke nodded as he quickly accepted the proffered weapons through the window in the bars and headed back toward Coulson and his team.

“Does that guy _live_  in there?” Jemma wondered, and Virgil nodded.

“Of course. He’s our quartermaster.” Virgil answered, as if that made sense. Jemma gave him a look, and he explained, “Things have gotten pretty rough, from time to time. It’s safer for everyone if one guy is in charge of our weapons, and there is no way in or out of the cage.”

“So how did he get in there in the first place?” Mack asked pointedly.

“When the times comes for a new quartermaster to take his place, one will be carefully chosen and trained. It’s all a pretty serious ordeal; after all, given the right circumstances, quartermasters aren’t chosen but every sixty or seventy years.” Virgil told them.

“A ten year old can squeeze through that window fairly okay,” Deke added as he rejoined them. Coulson blinked widely.

“A _ten year old_?” He repeated. Daisy glanced around the room.

“Speaking of... I haven’t seen any kids. Are there any kids here? There have to be, right — you said you grew up here.” She mentioned.

“Anyone not of age are not allowed below Sector 8. We are in Sector 6, currently.” Deke replied.

“The lower you go, the more dangerous it becomes?” Mack guessed. “If this place has a basement,” He muttered to himself, and Deke, having heard him, smirked as he handed him a weapon.

“Yeah, it’s Hell.” He joked wryly. “Where all the demons are born.” He said that as if it were a selling point.

“ _Born_?” Jemma repeated, and Deke nodded.

“The few of us who’ve been down there and lived to tell the tale; well, all we saw were remnants of these gigantic egg shell looking things. Absolutely disgusting — and since we’re not seeing a significant drop in the Brood numbers even when we do manage to gut them or toss them out into space, we figured those are how they’re reproducing.” Deke explained, and Jemma hesitated.

“If it’s all the same to you guys, I might like to stay behind and study the carcass we brought in last night,” She stated, and Coulson nodded.

“That’s smart — let’s see if we can figure these things out. We’ll go get May and meet you back here,” He agreed, and she nodded, reaching to squeeze his shoulder for a moment.

“Good luck, sir.” She told him seriously, something flashing in her eyes before she turned to head toward the corner of the room where her project awaited.

“I could only grab three, so,” Deke held up the other two automatics, which Elena and Mack immediately snagged. Deke nodded and pulled something about the size of his fist off of his belt. “The best offense is a good defense,” Deke grinned wryly as he tossed the object in the air and caught it.

“You and your damn football metaphors,” Coulson murmured, mildly amused, and Daisy furrowed her brow at him.

“What’s football?” Deke wondered, and Coulson shook his head.  
 

> _Well, I can’t teach them everything._

  
“Alright, let’s get going,” Mack announced, checking the clip and safety of his weapon. He already seemed familiar with it, which told Coulson that he’d probably already had to use one.

 _And it’s whispered that soon, if we all call the tune_  
_Then the piper will lead us to reason_  
_And a new day will dawn_  
_For those who stand long_  
_And the forests will echo with laughter_

“How appropriate,” Coulson murmured again as the group followed Daisy out into the hall, in a diamond formation with Deke holding up the back.

“What’s the forests?” Virgil wondered curiously, as the song drifted out of the speaker nearest them and continued somewhere further down the hall.

“Big group of trees,” Mack explained shortly, on edge as they turned the first corner. This level of the station was probably fine, but they weren’t taking any chances.

“Trees, right — the big tall green things,” Deke recalled, elbowing Virgil, “you remember Trevor telling us stories about those,”

“Riiiight,” Virgil agreed, sounding amazed, and Coulson shared a look with Elena.  
  


> _What? It’s not like I can show them a picture. They have no frame of reference. I figured I would stick with the important things to teach them about Earth._

  
“And you figured that included _me_?” Coulson grumbled, still unsettled by the looks of amazement he had been getting from the others in the room this morning.  
 

> _Obviously._

  
“What?” Daisy wondered, glancing at him in confusion.

“Nothing,” Coulson replied.  
  


> _You still don’t think they should know who I am?_

  
“Not yet.” Coulson breathed quietly, hoping Daisy wouldn’t hear him again. One thing at a time....

 _It’s just a spring clean for the May queen_  
_Yes, there are two paths you can go by_  
_But in the long run_  
_There’s still time to change the road you’re on_

“Ah, he’s leading us to the East stairwell,” Deke realized, and the music faded out; what they assumed was confirmation of the fact. “We can probably take that down to Sector 4, but I know it’s blocked off there. We’ll have to move through that Sector to get down to 3.”

“Unless she’s worked her way up,” Elena pointed out. “Maybe she’ll meet us somewhere in between.”

“God willing,” Mack said hopefully.

“She wouldn’t have...” Virgil hesitated. “She wouldn’t have gone _down_ , right?”

“No,” Coulson replied immediately, knowingly. “She would’ve gone for higher ground. Get her bearings.”

Everything was fine until they were passing the door that indicated with hastily scrawled red paint, ‘SECTOR 5’, and music burst on loudly from the other side of the door,

 _Your head is humming and it won’t go_  
_In case you don’t know_  
_The piper’s calling you to join him_

“Through here!” Coulson ordered, pushing open the door for Daisy to lead the way through, and she stepped forward with her palm thrust out just as they all heard a clawing scream echo against the walls.

“That’s Sidri!” Virgil warned sharply. “If it discovers us and calls out to it’s pack, we’re gonna be in deep shit,”

“I’ve got this,” Daisy assured as she jogged toward the thing halfway down the hall from the door they’d all poured out of. It yanked it’s head toward her, seeming to bristle angrily as it started running toward her. Before it could make another sound, though, she shot a burst of power through it that had it exploding in a pile of guts against the walls and floor.

“Gross!”

“Cool!”

Virgil and Deke were amazed, and Daisy hesitated before lowering her hand and turning a little smirk toward Coulson.

“Guess they aren’t invincible, after all.” She said, and Coulson smiled.

“Nice going, Tremors,” Mack praised, clasping her shoulder when they gathered around her again.

“Where’s May? Is she here?” Coulson asked The Voice, more worried about these space bugs crawling about than about his team thinking he was nuts.  
 

> _Yes. Turn left._

  
“But that thing came from the right,” Coulson argued.  
  


> _There’s a herd of them, hunting her down. Turn left, you can cut them off and get to her first. But go now!_

  
“Come on,” Coulson stepped forward and hurried on down the hall, the others having to catch up to him.

“Hey hey, at least let somebody with a gun go first!” Mack scolded, grabbing onto Coulson’s arm and tugging him back into their little formation.

“The Voice is talking to you again?” Elena asked as Daisy once more led the way. “How? You’re brain isn’t going to go all... kablooey, is it?”

“No,” Coulson sighed, and glanced toward the two locals before he figured they would probably find out sooner or later. Better to do it on his own terms. “It’s because of my hand.”

Understanding immediately dawned on Elena’s face, and Mack looked impressed.

“He’s hacked into the frequency of your hand?” He wondered, and Daisy hesitated, but Coulson urged her forward. They had to keep moving if they wanted to catch up to May before the aliens did.

“He didn’t exactly _hack_  into it, he just...” Coulson furrowed his brow. “It’s kind of hard to explain at the moment. Let’s focus?”

“Your hand? What’s up with your hand?” Virgil wondered curiously, but just then, they ran into another creature right around the next corner.

Something inside of it’s head seemed to glow an ethereal kind of red.  
  


> _Shield!_  

  
The next thing Coulson knew, he was thrusting his arm around in front of Daisy and covering her with the programmed shield in his prosthetic. Whatever the alien shot at them hit it and bounced off, rebounding into itself and knocking it backwards. It screamed and scurried off, disappearing around the corner at the other end of the hall.

“What the _hell_  is _that_?” Deke exclaimed in awe, staring at Coulson’s hand, while Mack exclaimed with more incredulousness,

“Did that space roach just shoot a _laser_  at us?!”

“Thanks, AC,” Daisy murmured shakily, a bit put-off by the suddenness of what had just happened.

Coulson straightened and pulled his arm back to his own side, giving her a little nod. He glanced down at his hand hesitatingly, rotating his palm front and back. Everything had happened so fast; it was almost as if he’d been moving before he even fully registered Jeffrey’s shouted warning in his head....

The music, having played this entire time, suddenly cut up loudly again right when the guitar solo started, and Mack winced at the painfully loud noise.  
  


> _Run._  

  
The Voice’s grave tone had Coulson moving immediately, his hands reaching for whoever was standing closest to him and tugging them along. The others followed out of instinct for survival, though they weren’t sure why they were running.

“What’s happening?” Deke demanded, no doubt knowing that Coulson was receiving orders from The Voice.   
  


> _Right, then the first left._

  
The Voice was guiding him in his head, now, and he realized the blaring music had stayed in the area where they’d just been.

“He’s creating a distraction,” Coulson realized. “Luring them back there,”

“I hope you know where we’re going!” Daisy warned, running side-by-side with him, now. They had to move too quickly for him to relay directions toward them all; it would be easier if they just followed his lead.  
 

> _Right!_

  
Coulson skidded to a halt as he guided Daisy to their right, their feet slipping on the floor momentarily.

“Holy shit, is that blood?” Virgil wondered.

“It didn’t look like alien blood,” Elena confirmed gravely, and Mack glanced at Coulson.

“It looked fresh, too,”

“We wouldn’t be out here right now if she was dead.” Coulson pointed out determinedly.

“Are you sure?” Mack muttered half-under his breath. “I still don’t know if we can trust this ‘Voice’, even if he does have good taste in music.”   
  


> _Good taste in music, huh? I’ll remember that. Go left in three hundred feet._

  
“We’re zig-zagging!” Deke realized happily. “He’s helping us lose the Hunters!”

“But how will we find Agent May?” Elena pointed out, and that was answered when Coulson led them toward their next waypoint.

“Stairs!” Daisy crowed, holding the door open as they all piled through.

“Is she in Sector 4, or 3 still?” Coulson asked, and the moment of silence made his blood run cold. “ _Jeff_?”

“ _What_?” Mack stared at Coulson like he was insane, as did Daisy, though she looked mildly more suspicious about it.   
 

> _Ran out of song. She’s ... west end of Sector 4. I have an idea how to get you all back once you find her, but you probably won’t like it._  

  
“We’ll deal with that when we get there,” Coulson replied, somewhat relieved. For a moment, he’d worried that the aliens had somehow gotten to Mace, though that was ridiculous.   
 

> _Aw, nice to know you’re worried about me, Phil._  

  
“Just get us the hell out of here.” Coulson muttered, continuing to move at a hurried pace down the stairs, but not as pell-mell as before.  
 

> _No monsters in Sector 4, currently. Just make sure you don’t surprise her._  

  
“Wouldn’t even do that on a good day,” Coulson replied wryly, off-handedly, as he guided the team through the door with a backwards number four painted on it.

“You’re getting a little too used to talking to yourself, Phil,” Daisy teased half-hesitantly, watching him with a curious gaze. Instead of responding to that, he told them all,

“This level is clear. Let’s find May and get back up to the safe zone.”

“And how are we going to do that? We’ll have to go right through a whole hoard of those things.” Elena pointed out.

“I think, uh, there’s an idea.”

“You mean, The Voice has an idea,” Daisy said, and Coulson nodded. Her brow furrowed but she didn’t challenge that.

“Elena? Would you mind finding Agent May for us?” Coulson requested, and Elena grinned and nodded.

“I’ve been wanting to stretch my legs a little,” She replied, and then was gone.

“Wow.” Virgil breathed in awe, and Mack narrowed his eyes at the man.

“Don’t make me punch you again.” He threatened, and Virgil nodded and took a step back, holding his hands in the air innocently.

“You know him, don’t you?” Daisy asked Coulson quietly, as they all stood in an outward-facing circle, watching one another’s backs until Elena returned. “The Voice. You recognize him.”

“...Yes.” Coulson answered lowly.

“You told me yesterday that he was using a voice that was familiar to you, that he was trying to make it easier on you.”

“Yes.”

“...But...” She prodded. Coulson didn’t say anything, so she finished her thought herself, “He’s not just using that voice, is he? That _is_  his voice?”  
  


> _Maybe I should have figured out a way to talk to her, first._

  
Coulson scowled at The Voice’s wry tone.

“Phil, I heard you call him Jeffrey. Twice.” Daisy leaned even closer, dropping her voice further to assure that no one else could hear her. “Yesterday, you seemed unsure about it. Just now, in the stairwell though...”

“Daisy...” He looked at her, his expression finally revealing how flummoxed he was about most of this. “I don’t know how it’s possible,” He admitted. “But it’s him. The Voice is Jeffrey Mace.”

She blinked, silent for a long moment as she mulled over hearing the confirmation out loud.

“He told these people about us, about you... I suppose The Voice could only have been a few people, to share these things about us...” She frowned deeply. “But how? After the Framework, after Ivanov...”

“It’s kind of complicated to get into right now.” Coulson told her. “But I promise I’ll tell you what I know, once we all get back, okay?”

“You should tell everyone.” She advised. “I’m not sure why you haven’t, yet,”

“Seriously?” He returned pointedly, “A voice that only I can hear, that of a man who was pronounced dead in more than one way, a man who — dead — should theoretically be somewhere _back in time_  compared to us here and now?”

“Well...” She hesitated, then conceded, “Okay, but,”

“Fuck, that’ll take some getting used to,” May’s complaint jolted them all to focus toward her, where she now stood in front of them, next to a grinning Elena.

Coulson eyed her over quickly, noting that she seemed a little bruised up but not too worse for wear — wait,

“Damn, May, what happened to you?” Daisy wondered as she hugged her friend carefully but firmly in greeting. “It’s good to see your face, though.”

“Had a pipe stuck in my leg.” May replied dryly, and Coulson raised his eyebrow as he somehow guessed that it entailed a little more than that. “Everyone good?” May checked, giving them a look over as well, ingrained training immediately urging her to check her team for injuries.

“More or less,” Mack replied. May nodded, but then her eyes narrowed toward Deke and Virgil. Her question was there in her expression.

“They’re fine,” Coulson assured her, “some of the locals.” Her own eyebrow twitched at that. “They helped us find you, May, and they’ve been keeping us safe since we got here.”

“More or less.” Mack said again, muttering.

“Not just them,” Daisy added, glancing sideways at Coulson. He thinned his lips and gave her a small nod.

She wouldn’t let him continue to keep The Voice’s identity a secret for much longer.  
  


> _Alrighty. There’s a docking bay about fifty yards away from you. Elena knows where it is. I want you to go there, leave the door open, and — uh, tie yourself down to something solid._

  
“What?” Coulson started in surprise, and May frowned deeply at him.

“No one said anything, Coulson.” May informed him slowly.

“Oh, he’s probably talking to The Voice,” Virgil piped up nonchalantly, and May merely blinked at him.

“The Voice has helped keep us alive for decades, and led us to you down here, as well.” Deke added, and May turned slowly toward Coulson again.

“Maybe later?” He suggested, then looked to Elena. “You passed a docking bay, maybe about fifty or so yards from here? Can you lead us to it?”

“I... did.” She seemed surprised that he knew about it. “Yes, I remember where it was.”

“Alright, let’s get going,” Coulson ordered, and reached for May. “Can you walk?”

“Not well.” She admitted, gritting her teeth, and that was more than enough to tell him that her injury was pretty bad. The blood that they’d seen on the floor earlier must have been hers.

He curled his arm around her back and helped support her as they followed Elena down the hall.

“Unless you know of a spaceship in the area, that bay is useless. There are no ships on or off of this rig,” Deke told them.

“Just trust me,” Coulson replied.

“Talk to me, Phil,” May requested, dipping into that friendly tone that she usually reserved for when the team was outside of mixed company. “Who is it that’s helping you? Is it someone who sent us here? Are we here for a reason?”

“Might as well tell us now, Phil,” Daisy suggested, glancing back over her shoulder toward them. “There’s an entire hallway full of monsters between us and the safe zone, maybe even more than that.”

Coulson sighed heavily.

“The Voice isn’t something unfamiliar to me.”   
  


> _Some- thing? Come on._ 

  
“In fact, he isn’t unfamiliar to any of us.” He glanced at Deke and Virgil. “Well, my team.”

“We know him?” Mack wondered, then suddenly added hopefully, “Is it Fitz? We haven’t heard anything about Fitz yet. Is he here, helping us out?”  
 

> _Fitz isn’t here, as I’ve said before. Phil, I... I don’t know where or when he is, but he didn’t travel with you guys._  

  
“It’s not Fitz,” Coulson corrected Mack gently, concerned for his missing teammate, but needing to focus on the matters they could control right now. “It’s... The Voice is Jeffrey Mace.”

They were all silent for a moment.

“Director Mace’s voice? But how can he do that? How did he even — is he some kind of alien? Can copy people’s voices?” Elena wondered.

“No, no,” Coulson replied, “I thought that, too, at first. But it’s not someone else just _using_  Mace’s voice.”

“You’re saying that a man I killed inside of a computer program is now somehow in the middle of nowhere space, on the same space station that we have been transported to by mysterious government types?” May clarified wryly.

“You didn’t kill him, May, that wasn’t you,” Coulson argued, and she shook her head.

“Semantics. Phil — what you’re saying is impossible, on so many levels.”

“He tried explaining it to me last night,” Coulson told them. “The Framework, he... he didn’t exactly _die_. Whatever it is you believe in and want to call it — what makes him _him_  went out in search of another form to inhabit. You know, since that Russian jackass decided to destroy his original body.”

“Was Director Mace actually an Inhuman?” Mack wondered, somewhat breathlessly.

“No, I don’t think so,” Coulson replied. “And I don’t know how this happened, alright, it’s way above my IQ level. It might be above _anyone’s_ IQ level. But while that rock had sent us through time and space, he’d taken the long way ‘round.”

“Which explains why he’s been leading the Believers for so long. Decades, you said.” Daisy spoke up, and Coulson nodded. Mack turned toward his old partner somewhat accusingly.

“You don’t sound so surprised by all of this.”

“I overheard Coulson some yesterday, and I had my suspicions. He just told me a few minutes ago though about Mace being... Mace.” She admitted. “Trust me, though, I’m still as damn confused by all of this as you are.”

“Hold on a minute — ” Mack literally paused in the hallway. “I thought we’d only moved a few minutes apart in time. What are you talking about _us_  being sent decades through time? This isn’t an episode of Doctor Who!”

“I have a feeling this is a conversation we should have with Jemma. She’s more familiar with geode space travel, than any of us.” Coulson replied dryly.  
 

> _Hurry up, hurry up._  

  
“Let’s keep going,” Coulson advised. “How close are we, Elena?”

“Should be...” She jogged ahead a bit, looking closely at a few of the doors, until she stopped and nodded, gesturing for them to join her. “Here! This one.” She pressed her fingers over the door in various areas as they caught up with her. “I can’t figure out,”  
  


> _I got it,_  

  
The wide door opened up in the middle, sliding to either side with a wracking groan.

“How long has it been since this was used?” Mack wondered, looking around at the dusty area.

“Before my time,” Deke shrugged, and Virgil nodded in agreement.

“All of our space craft were only made for short ventures around the station — for repairs and such. And they all went out of commission a long time ago. Since then, parts have been refurbished for weaponry.” Virgil explained.

“So what would have happened if you all managed to kill all the aliens on board, but then your space station fell apart and you died anyway?” Mack pointed out the ridiculousness of the flawed planning, and Deke shrugged again, defensively.

“Hey, it wasn’t _our_  choice.”  
  


> _Don’t blame me, I told them to save a few of the travel units. But as you know, not everyone on this flying planet believe that I’m here to help._ 

  
“Why are we here, Coulson?” Elena asked pointedly, drawing everyone’s attention to matters at hand. “If there are no ships to use, why did The Voice lead us to a dead-end?”

“Payback?” May wondered darkly, and Coulson frowned.

“Jeffrey wouldn’t do that.”  
  


> _A team that trusts is a team that triumphs!_  

  
Coulson’s eyes stung, and he turned away from everyone for a moment. He was surprised by his reaction to those words, surprised by the ache they produced in his chest.  
  


> _Hold on to something, Phil._  

  
The Voice advised softly, almost like a supportive caress.  
 

> _It’s going to get a little drafty._  

  
“If you’ve got a belt, use it to tie yourself to something,” Coulson spoke up immediately, understanding what Jeff’s plan was. He blinked his eyes clear quickly, tugging at his own belt as he looked around the room. “Find something to secure yourself with.”

“We’re going to open the window, aren’t we?” Virgil groaned, pulling a solid looking rope out of the small bag slung to his back. “I’ve learned to be prepared for this, unfortunately,” He sighed, using the clamp tethered on the end to attach himself to one of the thick pipes coming out of the floor.

“Here,” Coulson handed his belt to May, and wrapped the fingers of his prosthetic firmly around one of the metal hand-holds near the hall door.

“What’s the point in opening the doors if all of the aliens are in the sector above us?” Daisy wondered.

“It’s probably going to get loud in here, in a minute,” Coulson told her, and Mack grimaced.

“Maybe May was right; this is all some elaborate payback for everything,”

“You _know_  he wouldn’t do that,” Coulson argued, annoyed. “His character hasn’t _changed_ , he’s still the same,”

“But how can you know?” Daisy was the one to point out, her tone careful. “You said so yourself, he took the long way to get here. He’s been some kind of ghost-like version of himself, stuck in the middle of space with a bunch of people he doesn’t know. For _years_ ; through _generations_. A bit of change would be justified,”

“But he’s not _vengeful_ ,” Coulson said. “We’re his _team_ ,”

A burst of guitar interrupted him,

 _No matter what you are_  
_I will always be with you_  
_Doesn’t matter what you do, girl, oh girl with you_

“Fuck, that’s loud!” Daisy shouted over the music.

“It has to be heard by the Sidri!” Deke pointed out.

 _No matter what you do_  
_I will always be around_  
_Won’t you tell me what you found girl, oh girl won’t you_

They could hear the scrambling sounds echoing from the level above them, and they all shared wary looks.

“Just hold on!” Coulson ordered as the scurrying noises began to sound much closer.

“And hold your breath!” Deke warned, just before the first handful of monsters slid into the doorway. The creatures looked around at everyone, no doubt wary of attack, and just as they coiled to spring into motion, the doors on the other side of the room spread apart, immediately creating a vacuum and sucking out anything that wasn’t lashed into place.

Everyone’s feet were pulled out from under them, but they had all secured themselves properly so just held on for the ride as the herd of hunters scrambled uselessly along the floor and out into space.

One of them managed to latch onto Coulson’s jeans, and he grumbled and kicked at it, managing to hit it squarely in the (face?) and loosen it’s hold.  
  


> _There are a few I didn’t get, but they’ve retreated back to their den. As soon as I close the door, get back to Sector 6. I’ll continue to distract with some noises down here for a while until I’m sure they won’t follow you._  

  
The bay doors slid closed and the music finally cut off, and everyone collapsed onto the ground, heaving breaths of relief.

“Damn, I do _not_  want to do that again!” Mack announced, brushing himself off before quickly reaching for Elena.

“Thank you,” Coulson murmured toward The Voice, a little harried with having to go through the threat of being blown out into space for a second time. “Alright, quickly, let’s get going while we have the opening,” He glanced toward everyone individually to make sure they were alright, and then led the way back into the hallway.

“Um, let me,” Daisy suggested with a raised eyebrow. “We all know your hand doesn’t _actually_  shoot lasers.”

“Yeah, and these things _do_.” Mack grumbled, pulling his weapon from around his back and flicking the safety off again.

“Anyway, we need our Mace-Oracle alive and well, if he’s really the one who can get us out of here,” May added dryly.

“Who is this Jeffrey Mace you guys are talking about?” Virgil asked. “Is that The Voice’s real name?”

“Sounds kind of ... lame.” Deke mused. “‘The Voice’ is much more mysterious.”   
  


> _Lame, my ass._  

  
The Voice grumbled, and Coulson smiled a little.  
  


> _See you in a bit, Phil. Stay safe._  

  
Coulson figured that the songs somehow were a part of Jeffrey, so he couldn’t follow them while he continued to distract the aliens in another part of the station. A part of Coulson was worried about that, again needlessly — these things couldn’t hurt what didn’t exist within their concept of reality.

“Do you guys have beer, here?” Mack asked Virgil. “I need a drink.”

Virgil looked at Deke.

“What’s beer?”

Deke shrugged, and Mack groaned.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Stairway To Heaven,_ Led Zeppelin  
>  _No Matter What,_ Badfinger


	3. Chapter 3

“But _why_ were we sent here in the first place? Why are any of you people here?” May demanded, having reunited with everyone and had her injury looked over by Jemma. “Do we even know _who_ had taken us from the diner?”

“If I remember right, this was originally an exploration vessel.” Virgil answered hesitantly, not wanting to be the focus of May’s ire. “Deep space, find a planet that would sustain life...and until then, the station itself would support us.” Virgil shrugged. “No one knows how long the original timeline for this station was slated. We’ve managed to create our own ways of growing a few things, but mostly we survive through trade. Guess they all thought we’d find a viable planet by now.”

“Which makes shit sense, considering no one’s ever been sent out to look for us...” Deke muttered, glancing sharply in Coulson’s direction. “Except you.”

“So there’s a real possibility we could hitch a ride back to Earth?” May focused on hopefully, and Coulson pressed his lips together in a grimace as he shook his head.

“The species that pass by this station, that trade with these people, they aren’t human, May. We’re...” Coulson hesitated. He actually had no clue as to their location.  
 

> _In a neighboring star system. This satellite has moved far beyond our own Solar System by now._

  
“Guess that disproves _that_  theory about other Earths being near our Solar System,” Coulson muttered, quietly relieved that The Voice was back. May narrowed her eyes at him, looking at him like she wasn’t sure whether or not he was going crazy. Again. “We’re a long way from Earth, May.” He told her, “We’ve got to figure out how to get back to our own time, too.”

“I would imagine,” Jemma spoke up, “that it would have to work in the same way you guys saved me from Maveth.”

Coulson shared a weary look with her, and noticed that Daisy looked rather pale as well. He reached out to briefly squeeze her arm supportively.

“The stone that sent us here will have to bring us back, as well...” Mack muttered, his tone clearly stating his opinion that it was a lost cause. “Except that the only people who know anything about any of this were the ones that _sent_  us here!”

“Even if we somehow got word to them, and could persuade them to bring us back, it might still take years for our messages to reach them,” Coulson admitted, remembering from his conversation with The Voice the night before. “Speed of light, and sound,” He gestured vaguely as he trailed off, and Jemma nodded in understanding.

“Coulson’s right about that,” Jemma agreed, sounding a bit surprised and impressed, at which Coulson rolled his eyes.

“I _do_  pay attention when you and Fitz speak, you know,” Coulson muttered.  
  

> _And I told you._

  
He swore The Voice sounded like he’d be smirking if he still had a face to smirk with.  
  


> _Fitz is more than likely back on Earth, in his own time — in your original time. Along with the rest of what’s left of SHIELD... General Talbot... if anyone else has survived Aida, they would still be there._

  
“But who’s to say _they_  can help us? Are even looking for us?” Coulson huffed in frustration. “Talbot isn’t exactly going to stick his neck out for any Agent of SHIELD any time soon...”  
 

> _Why?_

  
“God — that’s a long story,” Coulson’s short laugh held no humor.

“Dude, Phil. Can’t he speak up so we all can hear him?” Daisy piped up, giving Coulson an odd look. “It’s really weird watching you hold a conversation with yourself.”

Coulson blushed a little, chagrined, as he glanced at the others and realized they were all giving him odd looks.  
 

> _Honestly, now that you all are really here... I feel more comfortable talking to you, Phil. I don’t want to scare them._

  
“You won’t scare them,” Coulson immediately tried to assure him, and Daisy furrowed her brow.

“Why does he think he’ll scare us?” She asked.  
 

> _They don’t exactly believe you, Phil._

  
The Voice spoke softly, apologetically.  
  
  


> _I heard them talking together a bit earlier, while you went to get medical supplies for Simmons and May. Perhaps it’s rather that they don’t believe me, that I am who I say I am. And they wonder if maybe..._

  
“They wonder if maybe what?” Coulson pressed, looking at his team with a little challenge in his eyes. Daisy and May, in particular, suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable with themselves, and Coulson figured he knew exactly what they were wondering.  
  

> _Something with the serum might be happening to you again, Phil._

  
“It’s not.” Coulson assured. Then, toward Daisy, “I know what the side-effects from the Kree serum feel like, Daisy. This isn’t that.” He furrowed his brow.

“Why won’t The Voice talk so that we can all hear him? How the hell could he scare us?” Daisy wondered incredulously. “Other than blast loud music in our ears?”  
 

> _Hearing the voice of a dead man can be terrifying in its own right._

  
“Sweet Mary and Joseph,” Mack breathed, slowly looking about with wide eyes. Coulson realized that Jeffrey’s voice had come out of the speakers within the room, that time.

“It really sounds like Director Mace,” Jemma wondered in awe.

“It _is_  Director Mace,” Coulson corrected her.

“What’s his proof?” May pointed out, folding her arms across her chest. She leaned her hip back against the table closest to them, putting some weight off of her wrapped up leg. Coulson looked at her, and she raised her eyebrow at him.  
 

> _Phil wouldn’t know this: in the Framework, I was the one who changed your mind about SHIELD, about the little ragtag group you were now following around. Everyone left the room when I told them to, except you. You hung back for a moment. You, a high-ranking member of Hydra, gave me, the leader of The Resistance, your respect._

  
Everyone was silent as they looked at both May and Phil for confirmation. May didn’t say anything, but her expression of soft surprise said enough. She believed him.

“I don’t understand.” Jemma stated, frowning deeply. Coulson had told her the same thing that he’d told the others in the hallway, but she wanted more science behind the theories. “What about Dr. Radcliffe? Is his mind floating around space somewhere, as well?”  
  
  


> _Could be._

  
“His body was dead long before his mind was, though,” Daisy remembered aloud, speaking slowly as she thought it through. “Maybe he’d grown dependent on the Framework to keep him alive, so pulling the plug on it killed him. Mace wasn’t dependent on the Framework, he was dependent on his own mind and body. In essence, he should have just woken up, since as far as we know his body was fine until... well, after everything.”

“We were told more than once that to die in the Framework was to die in real life, too,” Elena pointed out.

“Maybe that was a lie.” Daisy shrugged. “Maybe it was all just a fluke. Maybe that Patriot serum Mace had been taking did something to his brain. We could list off maybes all day long!”

“So we’re just going to accept that this Voice is the Director?” Mack replied. He glanced toward the wall where a speaker was inset into the wall. “It could be another damn alien that read our minds and picked his voice at random. It could be those creepy guys in suits, screwing with us. It could be some kind of Framework entity still doing Aida’s or Radcliffe’s bidding.”

“Like Daisy said,” Coulson tried to bring everyone back to focus; he didn’t even want to _start_  assuming that they could still be within the Framework. Not after everything that’s happened. “We could stand here and hypothesize all day.” Coulson pointed his finger toward the speaker. “He says he’s Mace, and I believe him. So does May,” Coulson glanced at her, and she gave him one short nod.

“I do, too.” Daisy affirmed, and Coulson briefly gave her a grateful look.

“He’s helped us more than once already, and he’s helped the people on this space station. Regardless of who or what you might think The Voice is, his intentions are pretty clear.”

Elena, and then Mack, nodded slowly, accepting that.

“Speaking of the people on this space station...” Jemma lowered her voice slightly so that none of the locals could overhear, “How are we supposed to save them? I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to just bring them all back to our timeline with us, if we can even manage doing that ourselves. Culture-shock wouldn’t even begin to cover it,” She glanced around the large room, pointedly.

“We can’t just leave them here,” Daisy said. “At this rate, Voice or no, the giant space bugs will kill who’s left within a month.”

“Maybe less,” Jemma admittedly revealed, and Coulson raised his eyebrow.

“Why?” Mack asked, his tone low with dread.

“I found something... odd, about the creature I was studying while you guys were out looking for May,” Jemma continued to whisper. “Some of it’s cells are quite familiar beneath the microscope.”

“Giant-ass hybrids of cockroaches - I knew it,” Mack glowered, and Jemma shook her head.

“There’s human DNA. And it doesn’t account for contamination of any sort - I checked two more creatures, and made sure to draw blood from fresh, protected areas on the body.”

“What does that mean?” Coulson wondered gravely.

“For all the dead aliens I’ve seen in some of the halls,” Elena realized slowly, her eyes widening as she followed Jemma’s train of thought. “I haven’t seen many dead humans.”

“They’re taking hosts.” Jemma confirmed, nodding. “They aren’t just killing these people for sport or for hunt - they’re taking them and using them to create more aliens.”

“Oh, fuck - I _knew_  that thing was a damn xenomorph!” Mack whined. “I need my damn shotgun-axe,” He glowered, staring at the doorway as if he expected one of said aliens to come bursting through at any moment.

“So we _need_  to get these people off of this satellite,” Coulson muttered, clenching his fists by his sides. “But we can’t get them safe if we’re stuck here, as well. And we have less than a month to figure it out.”

“There’s more traffic these days than ever before,” Jemma announced suddenly, and they all gave her a curious look. “In space, I mean. More and more species are traveling than certainly when this rig first came out here. Perhaps...” She turned to look directly toward the speaker on the wall. “If he really does mean well, perhaps The Voice could hitch the rides that we can’t.”

“Hopscotch his way back to Earth,” Daisy breathed out, her eyes alighting with excitement at the possibility. “But,” She deflated a little, “he’d still be in the future. How is that going to help us getting back to our own timeline? If we’re really decades in the future, even if Talbot’s son knew about us he’d probably be dead of old age by now, as well.”

“Maybe that’s something he can figure out when he gets there,” Coulson said slowly, looking toward the speaker as well. “It’s not a bad idea, or at least the start of one, anyway.” He asked The Voice, “Can you do it?”  
 

> _I’m willing to try. I’ve never considered tagging along with any of the trade vessels. The possibility of being stranded somewhere unknown was too daunting to want to leave what familiarity I have found here. But.... for you, I’ll do my damndest._

  
No one else was responding in any way, so Coulson figured Jeffrey had returned to speaking just to himself, through his prosthetic hand.  
 

> _If Simmons is right about interplanetary travel, I could get lucky. If I can get a ride that flies close enough to our own Solar System, I can satellite jump my way to Earth. I just need to get to the right System, first._

  
“Alright,” Coulson straightened his shoulders, resisting the urge to rub his hands together. “We’ve got something of a plan going. Mack, Elena, if the two of you could find out when the next trading shipment comes by, that would be great. May, sit down, put your leg up, and make sure Virgil brings you some food.” He gave his best friend a serious look. “You need to heal up, because I’m going to need you very soon.”

May sighed heavily, glowering a bit, but nodded and plopped down rather heavily onto the bench seat she was near. She did as asked, though, and lifted her foot up to rest her leg along the bench in front of her.

“Simmons, if you can keep studying these creatures and find out everything you can about them?” Coulson requested, and she nodded. “Daisy, you and I are going to have a chat with Deke and our quartermaster friend regarding weapons; we don’t know how long this might take Jeff, so we need to work on finding these aliens’ weaknesses. If they really are taking hosts, that means there’s some kind of nest somewhere.” He paused for a breath, and then said without breaking his facial expression, “We’re going to take a trip down to Hell.”

Daisy nodded at him, wide-eyed and serious. Time to get to work.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

“You’ll practically be just like a leaf in the wind!” Coulson fussed. He’d been growing more worried the closer they got to Trading Day, and now.... Sure, Jeffrey was barely even what people would consider a ghost, but Coulson had gotten used to him being around. Used to hearing his voice. Coulson didn’t want to think about losing that — and he didn’t want to think about why that possibility bothered him so deeply, either.  
  


> _Watch how I soar._

  
Jeffrey quoted proudly, but that did nothing to negate Coulson’s worry.

“You can’t turn my comment into a quote from a character that _died_  and expect me to feel better!” Coulson grouched, even more put out now that he was thinking of the quote’s origins.  
  


> _I’m sorry. Listen... you have to trust me. I can do this._

  
“I do trust you,” Coulson insisted, jamming his finger rather forcefully against the button to close the shade over his room window. “It’s the odds of you getting lost somewhere out there that I don’t trust.”  
  


> _Phillip..._

  
“I watched you die once, and now that you’re back —” Coulson frowned at himself, and sat down on the edge of his bed to take off his boots. “Now that you’re not... totally dead,”  
  


> _Not dead yet!_

  
Jeffrey quoted in a Monty Python-esque tone of voice, putting a smirk on Coulson’s face. Coulson let out a slow sigh, and stopped yanking so hard at the strings of his boots. He just needed to relax.

Gentle guitar began playing quietly, and Coulson let it soothe over him, toeing his boots off and lifting his feet up onto the bed to lie down. The song wasn’t familiar to him, but he forced himself to settle down and listen to it.

 _I can hear the sound, of your barely beating heart_  
_Pieces on the ground, from a world that fell apart_  
_Just hold on_  
_It won’t be long_  
_I will find you_  
_Here inside the dark_  
_I will break through_  
_No matter where you are_  
_I will find you_

_____ _

“Jeff?” Coulson wondered quietly, curling up beneath the blanket and tucking his arms against his chest, in an effort to keep warm in the perpetually chilly space station.  
  


> _I’m here, Phil. I won’t leave until morning._

  
Jeffrey replied softly, almost as if he were speaking right into Coulson’s ear, though the music still played quietly through the speakers.

Coulson swore that for a brief moment, he felt the warmth of a body curled against his back. And although he knew that was impossible, he nevertheless closed his eyes and settled in for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

 

**———**

 

Untethered.

Hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced a time without gravity; it was even more than just that. There was a lack of anything tangible.

Oh, sure, he can hear things. He can hear things no human has been or probably would ever be able to hear.

Sight is not the same for him anymore. He can’t see features that distinguish people from one another, or one object from a different object. People differ in other ways, though, and that’s what he senses. Energies, wavelengths.

The intangible.

Over the years, he’s learned to hone this ‘sight’. He not only distinguishes species, now, but each member of said species, as well.

He hadn’t been entirely truthful with Coulson. He didn’t only pick him to speak to because he was team leader and because he thought Coulson might accept him easier. Coulson stood out among the crowd; his wavelengths were like the largest needle in the tiniest haystack. A part of that had to do with his prosthetic arm, and Jeffrey didn’t want to point that out and risk making Coulson feel more different from the others than he already did. Jeffrey knew that Coulson wasn’t exactly proud of having a prosthetic arm, and he knew that it often bothered Coulson, even if he never outwardly expressed any discomfort.

Another part of it had to do with Coulson’s “intangibles”. Even when Coulson himself was stressed out, Jeffrey found it soothing to be in his presence. Coulson was familiar. Coulson was home.

Jeffrey tried not to read into that too much, but he had ‘lived’ with himself for a long, long time now. He’d come to terms with many things over the past decades.

It was terrifying, to once more find himself within the void of space. He’d become too used to having things all around him, living and technological, that were steady grounding points for him. He hadn’t truly needed to worry, in the space station, about becoming “lost at sea”, so to speak.

Now...  
  


> _Call me Ishmael._

  
There was no response, and he didn’t expect one. After all, the owners of this particular vessel were not aware of his existence. He recalled stories of his great-grandfather hopping trains, borrowing rides on coal cars to and from work every day. It was miraculous that he’d never been caught, or injured.

He wondered if this was some kind of fate; that he was following in the same kind of footsteps, only in a time of different technology.

It wouldn’t be the first time he came to question the workings of fate.

Two ‘jumps’ later, he was with a supply transport bound for Earth. With his own ‘travel’ capabilities, he’d been able to cut down the time it took for him to cross space - but once he was tethered with a ship, he was at the mercy of its own flight systems.

Except... this transport didn’t have anything living on it. If he were to override the systems, give them some extra juice, he could speed up the ship’s return to Earth. He’d already been gone from the station for a week, and as amazing as that was in regards to space travel, every minute put the team back on the station in more danger. They still had to fight for their lives against horrible beasts they weren’t truly supplied for.

This ship would be destroyed upon landing on Earth, but Jeffrey put the priority of his team over what he determined to be low-end, unnecessary scrap metal.

Crash-landing on Earth didn’t hurt, of course - not physically. He wasn’t prepared for the bombardment that hit him once he broke free from what remained of the ship. Earth was... _loud_. An untold number of satellites in orbit pressed him down much in the way that gravity worked for everything else. There was some technology that he recognized; updated but familiar as televisions, radios, and phones. What was truly overwhelming, though, was what lay underground.

Something, someones, had tapped into the Earth itself, drawing a kind of power from it that felt alien. And _intense_. It felt as if it were never ending, and the enormity of its wavelengths terrified Jeffrey more than the disconnection of space did.

He had to find people that would help him, and he figured his best bet would be SHIELD.

And if he wanted to find SHIELD, he should probably start at that power source.  
  


> _Coulson. Coulson needs to be safe._

  
Gathering his resolve, Jeffrey set out, ‘jumping’ as tentatively as he could from object to object. There was so much power drifting about, much of it was also untethered, and it was easy to get disoriented.

He needed to figure out how to contact SHIELD, and then he needed to find a computer.

 

**———**

 

FITZ, LEOPOLD JAMES. GREEN 5. A 0947329. B: 19101987.

“Uh... sir?” The agent spoke up sharply just as his supervisor passed by him, watching with his hands lifted off of his keyboard as seemingly random numbers and letters scrolled across the screen.

STATUS: UNKNOWN. FAMILY?

“What is this?” The supervisor asked sharply, leaning over the agent’s shoulder.

“I don’t know, sir. I was typing up my report on Project G.T. when this started.”

“No alarms that it’s a hack?” The supervisor raised his eyebrow as he glanced around the room. No one else in this section of cubicles seemed to be on alert about anything. “Seems to be just your computer.”

“No one can hack us.” The agent said in disbelief.

“That’s a name,” The supervisor pointed at the screen, “And those are old clearance designations... SHIELD’s. We haven’t used the rainbow system in probably seventy years.”

“Wait, is that string of numbers there a birth date? Whatever this is, they aren’t searching him up... they’re just writing this all out in my document. If they’ve hacked my computer, then why don’t they — ”

FIND HIM.

“Jesus!” The supervisor cursed, and straightened as he tugged his radio from his hip. “Enoch, we’ve got a code 6-8 in Sector 9.”

“Records department? Repeat.”

“Code. 6. 8.”

“...Fuck. I’m on my way. Don’t touch anything.”

“No shit,” The supervisor grumbled to himself as he tucked his communicator back into the holster on his belt.

HUNTER, AMADEUS LANCE. MERCENARY. UNAFFILIATED. SEE: GENERAL ANDROVICH, ASSASSINATION OF RUSSIAN PM DIMITRI OLSHENKO. STATUS: UNKNOWN. FAMILY?

“What? When was a Russian prime minister assassinated?” The agent wondered, and his supervisor shook his head.

MORSE, BARBARA. MOCKINGBIRD. 6 (BURNED). SEE: GENERAL ANDROVICH, ASSASSINATION OF RUSSIAN PM DIMITRI OLSHENKO. STATUS: |

The curser held in place, blinking. The two men were still staring at it when the man he’d called on the radio approached them.

“Details.” Enoch demanded curtly, and the agent rolled his chair away from the desk as the supervisor gestured toward the screen,

“So far there seems to be three names, followed by varying information. Whoever this is wants us to find them.”

“No other demands? No attempt to perform the search themselves?”

“No, it’s like...”

FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM

The screen suddenly filled very quickly with the same two words, and then scrolled itself back up toward the listed information.

“Whoever hacked us wants us to find these people ourselves.” The supervisor confirmed.

“Assassination? Are these implicated suspects? Perhaps it’s a tip.” Enoch pointed out.

“We have a department for that. This person wants records. Look here,” The supervisor pointed toward the first name listed. “I think this man was one of ours.”

“Leopold Fitz? Jesus.” Enoch tugged his communicator free and began to walk away, only to turn back and thrust his finger in the agent’s direction. “Print that off for me, then delete it.”

“Yes sir.” The agent immediately replied, scooting his chair under his desk again as he quickly did as told.

“This is Sparrow in Sector 9. Code Phoenix. Repeat: Code Phoenix. Affiliated meet me in the Director’s office _now_.”

He walked away without further word to the other two men, stripping the freshly printed sheets of paper from the machine as he walked by it.

“What’s Phoenix?” The agent wondered.

“Get back to work. Good job reporting this.” His supervisor clasped his shoulder briefly. “I don’t need to tell you to keep this to yourself.”

“Yes sir.”

 

**———**

 

“You’re right, Sparrow. It is exactly them. All three of them.” The Director squinted at the viewing screen in his office, holding up the sheet of paper Enoch brought him in one hand and comparing it with the digital files he’d opened on the screen.

There were only four people inside of the secured room currently; the only people who had been brought in on Project Phoenix. It was something a bit mysterious even to them; handed down directly to them from the original officers in charge. They understood the details of Project Phoenix, but they didn’t understand _why_  it existed. It had started under the previous Director for reasons unknown even to the current Director.

What they did know, was that someone asking about these three particular names was very alarming.

“Have we got a fix on the hacker yet?” The Director asked, and the other man and woman in the room shook their heads. At the Director’s frown, the woman quickly spoke up. Enoch didn’t know her real name, only knew her by her codename, Raven — the Director himself was the only one privy to their real names.

“The hack was internal.” Raven announced.

“It’s one of ours?” The Director darted his narrowed gaze at Enoch. “We have always kept Project Phoenix in this room.”

“Yes, sir, of course.” Enoch confirmed, not bothered by the suspicion. It made sense, considering how tightly this project was kept under wraps. It could be nothing else but a leak from someone currently in the room, intentional or not.

“We have never discussed Phoenix — or had any other interactions — with one another outside of this office.” Finch, the other tech agent along with Raven, proclaimed his innocence as well.

“Then how do you explain this?” The Director demanded, gesturing the paper in his hand.  
  


> _That would be me._

  
Jeffrey spoke through what he had figured to be some kind of music device in the office. He had no idea whether it was something that could normally be hackable, but by the sudden silence in the room, he figured he had to do the best he could to explain as quickly as he could.

“What. The. Hell.” Finch frowned deeply and began typing away on his tablet, holding it up as he scanned the room with one of his programs.

“Who is this? How did you break into our security?” The Director wondered calmly, slowly approaching the speaker.  
  


> _My name is Jeffrey Mace. Jeffrey Solomon Mace. Previous Director of SHIELD. Platinum level._

  
“Director Jeffrey Mace?” The Director repeated dubiously, opening up new files on the screen. He confirmed his memory as he read, saying aloud, “Impossible. That man was assassinated by an enemy combatant more than seventy years ago.”  
  


> _In public record I’m an Inhuman. However, that is false,_

  
The Director glanced sharply at Enoch, who shrugged, not following, before he then grabbed at the music device and unplugged it from the wall.

“I don’t know how this guy hacked in or how he’s hearing us but we need to — ”  
  


> _That was rude. I need to save my friends._

  
Jeffrey’s voice emanated from the device again, and the Director jumped in surprise, quickly setting the device onto his desk.  
  


> _Let me tell you my story and then you can judge me._

  
“Should I call security?” Raven mouthed, and the Director shook his head.

“We can’t let Project Phoenix get out. We handle this ourselves.”

“Tell us your story, then.” Enoch pronounced, folding his arms across his chest. However the guy was speaking through a device that held no power, perhaps Finch could still get a lead on his location.  
  


> _I was the first Inhuman Director of SHIELD. People called me The Patriot. But it wasn’t just a superhero name - it was a government project. It was a serum. I was an investigative journalist for The Bugle, ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe, the right time. Media portrayed me as a hero in the 2016 bombing in Vienna. United States government decided to turn me into a real hero. I wasn’t born an Inhuman. It was an act, in attempt to foster good relations between humans and Inhumans._

  
“The Patriot? This can’t be true,” Raven pursed her lips, folding her arms as well. “His death had led to half of the Inhuman Rights clauses in our laws today!”

The Director didn’t answer her, but his expression said enough, especially when he glanced hesitantly back toward the files on the screen. Wordlessly, he opened up another one entitled “Project Patriot”.

“How much do you know?” The Director asked gravely as the other agents gaped at the new knowledge they were reading.  
  


> _All of it. I lived it._

  
“Even if you really were this previous Director, you would be over one hundred years old right now,” Finch pointed out, focusing back on his program he was running on his tablet.

“Not to mention one crucial detail,” Enoch added dryly, certain parts of the report on the screen popping out to him. “His body had been found. DNA confirmed.”

The Voice sighed.  
  


> _That’s the hard part to explain._

  
“How about you explain how you know these three people?” The Director asked. “Why is it you want us to find them?”  
  


> _You don’t need to find them, as I’ve discovered. You already know exactly where they are._

  
“Track him, _now_ ,” The Director hissed toward Finch, who nodded quickly, his fingers typing away frantically at his tablet.  
  


> _I found that code name you mentioned curious, so I looked it up._

  
“Our files are — ”  
  


> _Extremely well guarded. I don’t think there is a single soul on this Earth who could’ve discovered Project Phoenix through any technological means._

  
“But you have.” Enoch pointed out. “So, what, you’re not on Earth? Are you in our orbit right now? Are you even human?”  
  


> _Like I said before, hard to explain. To cut to the chase — wake them up._

  
“Excuse me?” Raven blurted, giving the Director a wide-eyed look.  
  


> _I know where they are, I know that they’re, heh — can I just say, that is *awesome*? I had no idea we had cryo-technology in twenty-seventeen!_

  
“If you know all this, why have you risked discovery by asking US to do it? Judging by your technological knowledge, you probably have the ability to do it yourself. So what else is it that you want?” The Director demanded.  
  


> _I don’t want to do it myself. I don’t want to accidentally harm them. I don’t know shit about technology — I just use it best as I can._

  
“You care about them.” Enoch noted in the tone of his voice.

“Use it the best you can?” Finch repeated. “You’ve hacked through Skye Systems! Do you even realize what that means?”  
  


> _Uh... no... Anyway, of course I care about them. They’re my team. Well, technically Bobbi and Hunter were gone by the time I — ah, that doesn’t matter. Coulson trusted them, so I want them out along with Agent Fitz._

  
“Coulson?” The Director narrowed his eyes. “As in, Director Phil Coulson?”

“Who?” Finch asked Enoch, who shrugged and shook his head. According to Academy courses, there had been no Director of SHIELD with that name.

“Wait a minute,” Raven spoke up, revealing once again how much of a historian she was. “There was an Agent Coulson. The Avengers Initiative. Is that the same Coulson?”  
  


> _One and only._

  
The Voice was definitely proud of that, and Enoch furrowed his brow, as did Raven.

“It’s been a while since I’ve studied on the early Avengers, but I’m pretty sure their original squad officer died in battle.” She said slowly.  
  


> _Another long story._

  
“Seems to me you’ve just got a lot of holes in your story, mister.” The Director snarked, putting his hands on his hips. “Finch. How have you not pinged this guy yet?”

“Sir, I have, I just — I don’t think it’s right.” Finch glanced up toward his boss, who raised his eyebrow pointedly. “He’s in the room. With us.”

“That’s not possible,” Enoch snorted, glancing about though he didn’t have to. There was only one in and out of this office, other than the secret emergency exit, and that was blocked by a bookshelf that hadn’t been moved. There was nowhere to hide in here, either.  
  


> _You and I both know that between Director’s Fury and Mace — that’s me, if you need reminding — Phil Coulson was named Director for a couple of years. It was difficult to be official with the rest of the world since SHIELD had gone dark after the Hydra mess, but SHIELD itself was quite aware. Coulson fought against Hydra, the Kree, rogue Inhumans, the devil that called itself Hive, more Hydra, the Watchdogs —_

  
“Or, he _caused_ all of those things.” The Director muttered, scowling. That had been a dark time in SHIELD’s history. They had since moved beyond all of that, and he didn’t like being reminded of it.  
  


> _Look, I’ve been bouncing around all over this damn place for the last two days trying to find something familiar, even a *name* of someone who might be able to help me. Imagine my surprise when I discover three people I had only expected to find relations of? I can’t say for sure, but, why do *you* think they had agreed to freeze themselves for almost a hundred years?_

  
“I...” The Director didn’t answer that. He wondered that constantly himself, and he didn’t want to give this Voice confidence in their agreement with the point.

“Bouncing all over the place?” Finch questioned.  
  


> _Earth. Damn, I thought it was noisy before. If I could still get headaches, I’d probably have the worst migraine right now._

  
“You’ve been traveling all across the entire planet in just two days?” Raven repeated, staring at Enoch in suspicion. “That’s impossible, even on Vi-Train.”  
  


> _Vi-Train?_

  
“Vibranium powered train?” Finch repeated slowly. “You’re definitely not from around here if you’ve never heard of a Vi-Train.”  
  


> _Vibranium? You have Vibranium? How? Powering trains? Actually, it’s powering a lot of things, isn’t it... that explains the crazy amount of energy forces I’m feeling..._

  
“Have you been living under a rock?” Raven snorted.  
  


> _Actually, I’ve been living in space. Somewhere far away from here. Where other humans are, right now, fighting for their lives against a species of aliens that only want to destroy them._

  
“Other humans?” The Director jumped on that. “Where?”  
  


> _It was built to be some kind of ark. Transport mankind to a new Earth. Unfortunately, it never found one. It’s been infested, dead in the air._

  
“Infested? And what is this, your ransom? You have hostages to trade for our — for Project Phoenix?”  
  


> _No! I had nothing to do with those space roaches invading the ship. I’ve just been trying to keep people alive, and now that I’m not there, they’ll have no warning if the damn things decided to swarm._

  
“So...” Enoch thought quickly, piecing things together. “You travel across space, you manage to hack into the most secure organization in the Solar System, and you risk yourself to speak to us directly, all because you want us to save these people? This ark?”  
  


> _Yes._

  
The Voice was definitely relieved that he seemed to get it.  
  


> _They need help. Granted, most of them living there now had been born on that ship, so they would be absolutely overwhelmed by Earth, but, they’re humans. They need to come home. They need to be safe._

  
“And what about you? You’re here now — you could’ve just blended in to the crowd and lived your life. No one knows about this spaceship, and you could’ve kept it that way. You want me to believe that you are unselfish enough to risk not only space travel, but then incarceration or even death to go _back_  out there and save a bunch of other people?” The Director challenged.

“Honestly, seems a lot like something The Patriot would do.” Raven spoke up, and her boss gave her a dry look. “What? I studied a lot of the old heroes back when I was working on my dissertation. I’m just saying...”  
  


> _I think Fitz found out, somehow, about the time travel. I think he knew exactly what year the team had been sent to, so he had himself frozen so he could be available to save them._

  
“Time travel?” Enoch repeated sharply, sharing a look with the Director. “How do you know about that?”  
  


> _What, is it another closely guarded secret?_

  
The Voice sounded sarcastic.  
  


> _Coulson’s team was kidnapped and sent out into the future via some kind of stone. We don’t know who sent them, or how they knew that the ark needed saving. But we aren’t from this time._

  
“Why, if you really are Jeffrey Mace, you don’t always refer to this team as ‘we’?” The Director challenged. “According to my files, Coulson’s team was your top crew. You were close with them.”  
  


> _Let’s just say... we got here in different ways._

  
“If you can give me an approximate location of this ship, I could search for it.” Finch spoke up. “We’ve got plenty of satellites and small research drones out in deep space. It’ll prove your story, and — if it’s true — we could save these people.”  
  


> _Let me just..._

  
“What the hell!” Finch cursed as his tablet started processing through things so quickly he couldn’t follow. He set the tablet down on the conference table and the others gathered around it.

“I highly doubt you’ll be honest, here, but I’m curious — can you hack into _anything_  in this building?” The Director glowered. This had been unprecedented since their high security programs were implemented ten years ago.  
  


> _I wouldn’t quite call it hacking. Give me a sec, I’ve gotta focus... Google Space? Ha, of course Google is still a thing. ... Wow, this is way cooler than I remember it._

  
The image zoomed out of their Solar System, and shifted over, eventually zooming back in on a system that was light-years away. A bright point suddenly pulsed, and the image centered on it.  
  


> _Here. Unfortunately, it’s still light-years away even with the tech that you guys have. But maybe Fitz can figure something out, or you guys could, I don’t know, find that rock and send somebody back to stop my team from getting kidnapped in the first place._

  
“Scans are picking up tech in that area, sir,” Finch said in total surprise. “It’s old tech, and mostly dead, but there’s definitely something there.... Jesus, there are life signs, too.”

“Human?” The Director clarified quickly, and Finch nodded, his eyes wide with surprise.

“You’re telling the truth,” Enoch said slowly.  
  


> _Please, wake up Fitz and the others. Help me._

  
The Voice was desperate, pleading. Whatever his end goal, his current one was sincere.

“We don’t need to find the rock,” Enoch started.

“ _Sparrow_.” The Director hissed in warning.

“We already have it.” Enoch ignored his boss.

He was going to get shit for this later, but there were obviously real people’s lives in trouble. Regardless of whether the alien bug bit was true, humans that far out in space was frankly impossible, with tech that old. They wouldn’t survive too much longer, aliens or no aliens.

“And we know how to use it.”

 

**———**

 

Jeffrey waited until Bobbi, Hunter, and Fitz had acclimated themselves a bit to their situation. The Director had agreed to pull them out of cryo, securing them in a secret medical facility put into place exactly for this moment. Once they got used to being awake again, Enoch — the team lead on the project, second only to the Director — revealed to them that it hadn’t exactly been SHIELD’s decision to wake them.

“Who’s decision was it?” Fitz wondered, still shivering beneath the blanket the nurse had wrapped around his shoulders.

“Guy calls himself Jeffrey Mace.” Enoch replied, still not sure of the identity of The Voice, regardless of the truths in his story.

“Who?” Hunter frowned, and Bobbi narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.

“He’s the guy that took over for Coulson, right? Became the face of SHIELD when SHIELD became legitimate again.”

“That’s impossible.” Fitz snarled, jumping up and jabbing his finger in Enoch’s face. “What are you playing at?”

“Calm down, kid,” Enoch rolled his eyes, easily pushing Fitz back onto the med bed he’d been sitting on. “According to our files it does seem impossible, but the guy knows things that nobody else could know. Things that most other agents don’t even know.”

“Could he be a son? A grandson?” Bobbi wondered, and that seemed to calm Fitz down slightly.

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” He nodded slowly, pulling the blanket back around his shoulders. “That’s probably it.” He blanched even paler than he already was, and murmured to himself, “Hell, what if he did have a family?”

“Look, I’m sorry I can’t give you a lot of time to familiarize yourselves with this decade, but, there’s a bit of a situation. We need your help.” Enoch explained, bringing forward a rolling suitcase. “There are three sets of clothes inside, should fit you all. Get dressed. We’ve got a briefing in ten minutes.”

“Do you even know who we are?” Hunter blurted, and Enoch gave him a wry look.

“I know exactly who you are.” He turned and stepped out of the room. “I’ll leave you guys alone.”

“Hey, what about — ” Bobbi started, but Enoch stepped out of the room and closed the door before she finished.

“Don’t worry, love, nothing I haven’t seen before.” Hunter grinned, and Bobbi rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t worry about me, I won’t peek,” Fitz promised distractedly, already dropping his blanket onto the bed and tugging the scrub shirt off as he turned his back to them. He dug through the suitcase and then rolled it toward them with a light push, focusing on getting dressed.

Hunter and Bobbi shared a weary look, no doubt concerned over the seeming change in their friend’s personality, but they eventually grabbed their new outfits as well.

Jeffrey ‘followed’ quietly after they’d all dressed and Enoch led them to the Director’s office.

“This tech is amazing,” Fitz wondered in awe as they stepped through multiple security sectors before nearing the office.

“Has your, uh, benefactor spoken to you, yet?” Enoch asked.

“This Jeffrey bloke?” Hunter gave him an odd look. “You would’ve seen him come into the room if he had, wouldn’t you have?”

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Enoch muttered. When they arrived, he opened the door and gestured they enter the office ahead of him. “Go on. The Director is waiting.”

He paused before following them in.

“Why haven’t you spoken to them yet?”  
  


> _It will come as far more a shock to them than it has to you, trust me. I wanted to give them some time._

  
“Well according to you we don’t have time, so, pull up your big boy pants and get it done. Without you we all sound like a bunch of morons.” Enoch fussed, then added under his breath, “Whole thing sounds pretty crazy, anyway.”  
  


> _Says the guy who has Stargates in his basement._

  
“What-gates?” Enoch wondered.  
  


> _Never mind._

  
As Jeffrey had discovered while waiting for his friends to awaken, this future SHIELD had the time-travel rock in its custody, and had studied it, and had even managed to harness its powers. They hadn’t reached the point of sending people through it, yet, but they were going to break that barrier now.

By being able to control the stone through what Jeffrey fondly nicknamed Stargates, they could send people and ships directly to the station out in deep space, within a matter of seconds. They could bring back Coulson and the team and the rest of the humans to Earth, and then — hopefully — use the stone again to send the team back to their original time.

Once the Director explained the details of what needed to be done to Fitz and the others, and Raven and Finch answered as many questions as they could, Enoch prodded Jeffrey once again.

“C’mon, Mace.We’re going to need your guidance.”

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Fitz muttered darkly, glancing around the room. He looked suspiciously at Enoch. “Where is he?”  
  


> _I’m here. It’s hard to explain. And yes, harder than time travel and humans stuck in deep space._

  
“Hell, he sounds just like him,” Fitz sucked in a breath, grabbing onto the back of a chair as his knees seemed to buckle slightly.  
  


> _I’m... I am him, Fitz. I am Director Mace._

  
“This is,” Fitz shook his head, giving The Director standing in the room a side-eye. “Is this some kind of interrogation technique? What is this?”  
  


> _This isn’t torture, Fitz. I’m me, I’m real. I survived the Framework... sort of._

  
“But... your body, it was gone.” Fitz argued. “We heard about what Ivanov did to you — and I — Jesus, it’s _my_  fault,”  
  


> _Fitz, it was Aida._

  
“No, I,”  
  


> _Fitz. I don’t blame you._

  
Fitz’s lip trembled and he ducked his head, hiding his emotion from these strangers. Jeffrey knew, he could feel, that Fitz was still berating himself for his choices in the Framework, but he was more calm about the situation. In time he knew that Fitz would forgive himself; the only thing Jeffrey could do was continue to promise him that he held no ill feelings toward the young man.

“Uh, you all good, mate?” Hunter worried, hesitantly clasping Fitz’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Fitz sniffed and then lifted his head, and squared his shoulders. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He still held a white-knuckled grip onto the chair, though.  
  


> _My body is gone, yes, but... a part of me survived. And crazily enough, Coulson and the team ended up on the same station that I’ve been hanging out on._

  
“For more than seventy years?” Fitz prodded incredulously.  
  


> _Welcome to the hundred-years-old club._

  
“This ship we have to help save,” Bobbi asked, “You’re the one who told these guys about it? How did you get here? How are you even talking to us if — as you say — ‘your body is gone’?”

“Ghosts.” Hunter nodded simply. “He’s a ghost.”

“Oh good, because I need that.” Fitz snarked, and Bobbi elbowed Hunter in his side.  
  


> _I can’t explain it. But Daisy thinks it might have something to do with the fact the plug was pulled before I actually died within the Framework. Maybe I wasn’t dead when they destroyed the machine, so whatever part of me was in there, went... out._

  
“Your soul?” Bobbi guessed in a bit of awe. “That’s amazing.”

“You can hear, though? Talk to us. Feel and see things?” Fitz questioned. “Jemma would love this...”  
  


> _Trust me, she’s already hounded me with a million questions._

  
“She — Jemma’s okay?” Fitz asked hopefully. “And Daisy, too?”  
  


> _The whole team is. At least when I left, anyway._

  
“We need to go. Now.” Fitz insisted seriously to the Director, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Just like that? You’re ready to risk deep space on the word of a guy you can’t even see?”

“Jemma is out there!” Fitz pointed out emphatically.

“I need to bring the crew in on this, if we’re going to use the gates.” The Director reminded his Phoenix team.  
  


> _Ha, I knew they were Stargates._

  
“What the hell are — ugh, never mind.” Enoch pursed his lips, and then said to his boss, “It’s your call, obviously. But we can’t just use the stone with no prior information shared with its crew, and then bring back who-knows-how-many people. There will be too many questions for us to throw a blanket over.”

“I’ll handle that part.” The Director assured. “You guys head on downstairs. I’ll call ahead to the crew and then meet you. If we’re bringing an entire satellite station of people back, we’re going to need ships — and pilots.”

“Follow me,” Raven announced, leading the group out of the office. “I work in that area, so I know my way around.”

Jeffrey went with them, choosing to ‘ride’ along in Enoch’s communicator. Not like the guy could tell, but, Jeffrey just felt more comfortable around him. He wasn’t like Coulson, but, he reminded Jeffrey of him in some ways.

“Uh, Mace?” Fitz asked hesitantly.  
  


> _I’m here._

  
“Jesus,” Enoch jumped at the voice emanating by his hip. “I hate you.”  
  


> _No, you don’t. What’s up, Fitz?_

  
“You’re really not dead?”  
  


> _Not that I can tell. If this is a normal after-death experience, I think we would’ve heard about disembodied voices and beings within other wavelengths a heck of a lot more often._

  
“Other wavelengths...” Fitz mused, his brain going away with it for a moment. “That’s — the programming! Our minds became programming in the in-between space, between our bodies and the computer. The headpieces we wore were the transfer points, basically, between our bodies and the Framework. So it’s like your transfer simply got interrupted! Somehow you slipped out of that transfer point and had nothing... nothing to connect to,”  
  


> _So I travelled through space, trying to find something to connect to. Yeah, that sounds about right. More science-y than my explanation, but more or less on point._

  
“That’s amazing,” Fitz breathed. “Man, I wish Jemma were here to bounce ideas off of,”  
  


> _Soon enough, Fitz. Soon enough._

  
“I...” Fitz sobered. “I am sorry, Director Mace. I am so sorry.”  
  


> _Fitz — I forgive you. You have to stop beating yourself up about the Framework. We all did things in there that we wouldn’t normally do._

  
“But that’s not true, is it?” Fitz challenged. “Coulson was a teacher — not really all that different than being a team leader, in some aspects. He guides, inspires, teaches — and anyway, he told me once that he would’ve been a teacher if he hadn’t joined SHIELD. And Daisy — Daisy became an agent. Happened to be Hydra, but still. You? You were a damn hero. Exactly the way you wanted to be in real life.”  
  


> _Fitz..._

  
“I was a murderer, an asshole, a bigot, a.... I was a fucking Nazi.”  
  


> _It was because Aida wanted to control you. Break you. She had to kill Framework Jemma to get away with it! That was all Aida — *not* you. She used you, Fitz. Turned you into something you are not._

  
“I still feel it.” Fitz murmured quietly. “The hatred. It was...” He shuddered a little. “It’s disgusting. I feel _dirty_.”

“Silver lining, my friend,” Hunter offered, slinging his arm over Fitz’s shoulders. “Jeff here isn’t really dead. All those other things, as you told me, were computer programs. So really, you aren’t a murderer.”

“But I _wanted_  to be,”  
  


> _*She* wanted you to be. Fitz, trust me — we all know the real you. Jemma knows the real you. And she loves you._

  
“We’ll see.” Fitz muttered. “She’s had time to think.”

When they approached the doorway that led to the stone, they all paused. Various agents were standing about, out of the way, watching silently — as they’d been instructed by their boss to do. They had no idea who these strangers were — Raven was the only recognizable person to them, and only two others in the group were wearing badges that indicated they were agents.  
  


> _Promise me that you will take care of those people we bring back._

  
“Of course we will,” Enoch replied, hearing Jeffrey’s voice in his earpiece now. He tapped his finger against his comm unit so it would look like he was talking through it. “If they’re good people, we’ll make sure they have a place here.”

“And if there are bad people among them, those will have a place here, as well.” Finch muttered, guessing as to Enoch’s topic of discussion.

“Let’s go get our people.” Bobbi pronounced firmly.

“Need I remind you that we do nothing until we rendezvous with the transport team on the other side?” Raven drawled. “They’re using our portal in the hangar bay. We’ll start with two ships. If we require more, we’ll send them through after the first two have returned. Just so we have less agents in jeopardy should your little story be nothing but just that.”  
  


> _I would never purposely put agents in jeopardy._

  
“Does this count that time you put a bag over Jemma’s head and — ”  
  


> _I’ve apologized for that more than once._

  
Fitz half-smirked at Jeffrey’s pouting tone. Jeffrey sensed something almost like fondness coming from the younger man, and he would’ve smiled in return, if he could have.

“Deep and calm breaths, people. This is gonna feel a little weird.” Enoch warned as the door was closed and latched firmly behind them.

“You gonna be with us, Jeff?” Hunter wondered, his worry for themselves lilting his tone slightly as he stared at the stone in front of them.  
  


> _Don’t worry about me. If I do get lost, I know what to look for._

  
Firmly secured in Enoch’s communicator as he was, he knew even the force of the stone’s power wouldn’t rip him away from it. And anyway even if it did, now that he knew what Coulson’s wavelengths ‘sounded’ like, he was confident that he would be able to find the man anywhere.

“You know, I’m suddenly getting second — ”

Hunter cut himself off when the stone rippled, and then melted down and washed in a big wave out into the room.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Find You,_ Ruelle


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but as you can see it turned into a beast of its own, so I’ve decided to cut it into parts to make it a little easier to read. Even so, this chapter turned out crazy long... sorry about that, you guys! You might wanna read this one when you have some time to settle in. A lot happens here. :)

_I will find you_  
_Here inside the dark_  
_I will break through_  
_No matter where you are_  
_I’ll be the light and lead you home, when there’s nowhere left to go_  
_I’ll be the voice you always know, when you’re lost and all alone_  
_I won’t let you go_

“Jeffrey!” Coulson shot to his feet, startling the others at the table.

“He’s back?” Elena wondered hopefully, as The Voice was using Coulson’s ‘private channel’.  
  


> _What happened, Phil? Are you okay?_

  
Jeffrey’s concern was apparent, and Coulson grimaced as he touched his fingers against his cheekbone, where a deep gash marred his skin. At least it had stopped bleeding.

“We had a bit of a scrap with some of The Brood, but it’s alright.” Coulson assured him. “...We lost two people from the station, but, their deaths weren’t in vain. We were able to keep The Brood out of the upper levels.”

Coulson tried to be chill about it, but he was so relieved to hear Jeffrey’s voice again. He knew it was written all over his face, and his team could see it.

“Did it work?” Mack wondered. “Did he find help?”  
  


> _I come bearing gifts,_

  
Jeffrey flourished a bit, rightfully proud of himself.  
  


> _Ships and people. SHIELD of the future! And...._

  
“What?” Coulson prodded, just as Simmons gasped and jumped to her feet, too. She covered her mouth with her hand, and Coulson turned to follow her gaze toward the doorway.

“Fitz?!” Daisy exclaimed, and then Simmons hurled herself around the table and met him in the middle of the room, the two hugging one another fiercely. The rest of the team stood as well, but gave them a moment.

“Phil Coulson, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“ _Hunter?!_ ” Coulson blurted, staring wide-eyed as the Brit, along with Bobbi and a couple of other people he didn’t recognize, followed Fitz into the room.

As the team all hugged one another and reunited, Coulson was intimately aware of the strong fondness he felt surrounding him.

“You really did it,” He murmured to Jeff, stepping off to the side to give himself a bit of privacy.  
  


> _I promised you that I would find you._

  
“You should be here, too...”  
  


> _I am here._

  
Coulson gnawed on the corner of his lip for a moment, trying to keep himself settled. Between the relief of Jeffrey’s return, the excitement at his team being reunited, and the very real prospect that they would all be heading home soon, Coulson felt almost a little hysterical.

“How was your trip? You’re okay though? Any problems?” Coulson wondered.  
  


> _I got a little turned around a couple of times, and Earth is... it’s overwhelming. It’s *amazing*, Phil. And SHIELD, SHIELD is... they’re a very real presence. Respected._

  
Coulson smiled at that, both Directors pleased by this knowledge.

“How did you get back so fast? You’ve only been gone for about a week and a half.”  
  


> _By myself, I’m able to travel faster than most things, so long as I can find the correct wavelength path. The ships slowed me down a little, but most of the time I was gone was spent getting to Earth. Once I arrived, everything else happened fairly quickly. Particularly after I discovered that Fitz himself — along with some of your old buddies — had cryogenically frozen themselves._

  
“How in the _world_  did you box yourself away for so many years?” Coulson asked Fitz, rejoining the group.

“You did what?” Simmons prodded.

“It was a variation on the Icer technology...” Fitz admitted, looking a bit apologetic toward Coulson. “Radcliffe and I were working on a lot more than just A.I. We’d already succeeded freezing plants and fruits for well over their expiration times —”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Bobbi interrupted, giving Fitz a warning look. “You told me those pods were tried and true! Are you saying we were the first human guinea pigs for your little ice-cube project?!”

“I was ninety-five percent sure we would survive the ordeal!” Fitz defended himself, and Hunter covered his face with his hand. “Anyway, while I had been sure you all were sent into the future, I had no idea how. It was the only option I’d had at the time.”

“It worked,” Simmons smiled as she rested her hand against his face. Then she frowned at him though, and slapped his shoulder. “Never risk your life again for ninety-five percent!”

“I was risking it for _you_ , Jemma,” He protested, gathering her into his arms again. “Ninety-five percent was more than enough to persuade me.”

“You keep doing that.” She complained, but returned his hug, giving him a brief but loving kiss.

“You’re dead.” The unfamiliar bald man said to Coulson, who sighed tiredly in response to that.

“Not the first time I’ve been told that,” He replied, and the man just furrowed his brow even more deeply. “Phil Coulson, but I guess you know that,” Coulson introduced himself, holding his hand out. The man did accept and return the greeting, although he still looked deeply suspicious.

“I know.” He let go of Coulson’s hand. “Sparrow,” He replied, and ignored Coulson’s raised eyebrow as he gestured toward the others hanging back behind him. “I’m team lead on this rescue mission. That’s Finch, Raven, and a couple of our best pilots from SHIELD. I need you to tell me exactly what’s going on on this space station, so we can start to coordinate transportation.”

“You really like birds, huh?” Coulson mused wryly, and Sparrow only blinked at him, mastering the poker face far better than Coulson ever could.

“This is _amazing_ ,” The woman called Raven pushed her way forward, reaching to shake Coulson’s hand ecstatically. “I’ve studied all of your research documents on early super-powered people. You really had a knack for understanding the inexplicable, back then!”

Coulson glanced toward Daisy as Raven continued to rigorously shake his hand.

“Research documents?” He repeated. Daisy was smirking at him, entertained by the fact that _he_  was the one being fanned over.

“Yeah, I’m particularly a fan of your paper on — ” She cut off when Finch grabbed her arm and yanked her back, pulling her away from Coulson.

“Shut up, he probably hasn’t even written them yet!” Finch hissed at her, and her eyes widened in realization.

“Anyway,” Sparrow drawled, “Creepy Disembodied Voice Guy claims you all are in trouble, have been overrun by some kind of alien?”  
  


> _Creepy Disembodied Voice Guy can hear you._

  
“And that just makes you more creepy,” Sparrow returned to Jeffrey’s dry tone.

“They call them The Brood,” Mack cut to the chase. “They’re basically gigantic evil cockroaches.”

“That shoot lasers,” Daisy put in. Mack nodded seriously.

“Remind me to add that as an insurance clause in my plan, when we get back home,” Mack mentioned to Elena, who smirked in amusement but nodded.

Coulson had to give these guys credit; they didn’t even blink an eye at the laser-shooting-bugs. Then again, maybe that was a common thing on Earth now, who knows. (He hoped not.)

“So, who are you, exactly?” May asked Sparrow. “You said you were SHIELD pilots? So SHIELD still exists.”

“Yes, we are the foremost defense for Earth against any outside forces. We also serve as a Welcome Wagon for alien visitors. Nothing enters our world without us knowing about it.” Sparrow explained somewhat formally.

Daisy beamed at Coulson, who grinned at her in return. ‘Welcome Wagon!’ She mouthed excitedly, and his grin widened proudly. Seems like she left a bit of a legacy, in this future.

“Speaking of — whether you’re fully human or not, we have to treat all of you as outsiders. You’ll have to go through a screening process off-planet before we can bring any of you back with us,” Finch told them, and Elena frowned as she folded her arms across her chest.

“How did Mace make it through to you guys?” She asked.

“We don’t know.” Sparrow answered, narrowing his eyes. “He claims no one ‘currently on Earth’ could get through our systems. Never did really explain how _he_  did, though.”  
  


> _I... felt some loopholes._

  
Jeffrey admitted.

“Felt?” Fitz repeated, at the same time Raven asked,

“Loopholes?”  
  


> _There’s a lot of stuff that overwhelms me on this future Earth but there are certain wavelengths that are... familiar to me. Specific, and rare. Nothing else — even with the advancements in technology — could’ve discovered them, that I’m sure of._

  
“Then how do they exist?” Sparrow questioned. “How can we fill these loopholes so someone or something of a more nefarious nature doesn’t get in like you did?”  
  


> _I’m not sure they can be filled in. They felt like a part of your security system, Agent. A specific part of the design._

  
“That’s impossible,” Finch scoffed. “Skye Systems is decades beyond the most advanced security on Earth and off of it, and it’s been that way for as long as I can remember.”

“ _Skye Systems?_ ” Simmons repeated, slowly looking toward Daisy. Daisy shrugged, but held an intently curious expression as well.

“Perhaps we should stop talking,” Raven suggested. “We have to remember that these people are from our past,” She told her teammates, “We need to do what needs to be done as soon as possible so we don’t further risk tampering with the timeline.”

“Can any of you give me an estimate on how many people are on this space station?” Sparrow asked, and Deke stepped forward jubilantly.

“I can help you with that! You’ve got ships? You can really take us to Earth?” He asked excitedly.

“Well, we’ll have to take a pit-stop at the International Space Station before you step foot on Earth, but, theoretically yes.” Sparrow replied, unimpressed with the younger man’s excitement.

“Oh, the ISS still exists?” Simmons wondered fondly, pleased to hear that.  
  


> _It’s way bigger than we remember. Basically its own little city._

  
“It’s where transients go through our screening process,” Raven confirmed.

“So SHIELD owns it?” Coulson wondered.

“SHIELD is the only truly unassociated organization on Earth. We aren’t directly affiliated with any country or power, though our headquarters is based in Canada.” Finch explained.

“Canada is still Canada?” Daisy asked with surprise, and the future-SHIELD agents gave her odd looks.

“Does it not exist in your time?” Finch wondered.

“Never mind that,” Sparrow interrupted. “We were sent here to save a lost colony of humans. Let’s get going.”  
  


> _Not a bad idea. They’ve taken notice of all the extra activity of people and ships. They’re starting to come out of hiding a little earlier than usual,_

  
“They?” Finch repeated. “You mean the aliens?”

“He means the aliens.” Mack confirmed, glowering.  
  


> _If they feel brave enough, they may attack us even here._

  
“Feel brave enough?” Mack huffed. “They take people and use them as incubators! I don’t think they have a problem with bravery.”  
  


> _They’ve always stayed away from the upper levels. But they’re smart, and they know that your early warning system hasn’t been going off for almost two weeks. They don’t know what I am but they do know that they can’t hurt me. That used to be enough to intimidate them to stay to the lower levels of the station. Since I’ve been gone, they are far more willing to try their luck._

  
“Oookay, that makes me feel a whole lot better.” Daisy announced sarcastically, glancing toward the hallway.

“We have kids here, you guys should load them up in your ships first,” Deke suggested, focusing on what needed to be done now. “How big are these ships of yours, anyway?”

“We can safely transport ten at a time. We have two vessels currently,”

“ _What_?” Deke interrupted Sparrow, incredulous. “That will take _hours_!”

“Look, we aren’t risking _all_  of our pilots on something that could have been a trap, or a shot in the dark!” Sparrow retorted, folding his arms across his chest.

“But all of you come?” Coulson gestured toward him and his team pointedly.

“We’re a part of the Phoenix Project,” Sparrow glowered, his eyes darting toward Bobbi, Fitz, and Hunter. “We follow where it leads us.”

“Project Phoenix?” Daisy repeated, and rolled her eyes in Elena’s direction. “What is it with the birds?” She rhetorically asked her friend.

“Our _code names_  were created specifically in regards to the project that involved three people living who theoretically shouldn’t be,” Sparrow replied testily, losing his patience. “I didn’t come all this way to be judged by someone who’s old enough to be my grandmother.”

“Hey!” Daisy frowned.

“You know that we’re not with them?” Coulson asked, tilting his head toward Deke.

“Your Voice friend informed us of the situation.” Raven was the one who answered. “We’ve got a ... thing, back home, that we can use to get you guys back when you belong.”

“A stone?” Simmons prodded, and Raven looked at her in surprise. Simmons sighed heavily. “I’m never going to get away from those things.”

Fitz put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him.

“We’ll start with five children and five adults per ship,” Sparrow announced, raising his eyebrow in Deke’s direction. “Tell your people to start preparing. We’re getting them off of this floating death-trap.”  
  


> _They have these Stargates that allow their ships to travel in seconds. While I agree that it would be better to get everyone off at once, they can get this done._

  
“Stargates?” Coulson raised his eyebrow, looking at the future-SHIELD agents.

“We’ve managed to, in small amounts, harness some of the power of the time-stone. We’ve created a kind of doorway that contains the force and allows us to turn it on and off at our own discretion.” Finch explained.  
  


> _Stargates._

  
“That does sound a lot like Stargate,” Daisy agreed.

“I’m getting a headache.” Sparrow complained lowly. Deke gestured for him to follow, and led the man toward the upper levels of the station, where he could see for himself how many people needed rescued.

“Mack? Mace? You guys want to help me keep the aliens distracted while these people get to safety?” Coulson suggested, starting to head over toward the quartermaster’s booth.

“I’ll come, too,” Daisy offered immediately, but Coulson shook his head at her.

“I want you and Elena to find out where they’ve docked their ships, and keep your eye on them. If anything happens to get passed us, we need people here to help defend them.” Coulson told her.

“If anything gets passed you, then that probably means you’re _dead_ ,” Daisy pointed out darkly, not liking his casual attitude about that.

“Don’t worry about me,” Coulson smirked, though he knew that she could tell he wasn’t actually one-hundred percent confident about his plan. “I’ve got a creepy disembodied voice watching my back.”

“And, more importantly, space-gun-scythe.” Mack drawled, hoisting up his odd-looking contraption that the quartermaster had carefully handed over. “Not quite as cool as my shotgun-axe, but I had to make do.”  
  


> _Sometimes, Mack, you terrify me._

  
Mack grinned.

“Mace,” Daisy instructed seriously, jutting her finger in the air although there was no one for her to really point at, “I swear on whatever is green left on Earth that if you let them get to Mack or Coulson, I will figure out how to Quake apart whatever atoms of you may still exist.”  
  


> _Got it._

  
Jeffrey confirmed, just as seriously. Coulson had no doubt that Daisy would indeed make good on that threat, if necessary. He squeezed Daisy’s arm encouragingly and then headed out of the room with Mack, hoping that all he was portraying was optimism.

This all felt too easy, considering everything. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing, ever, was easy for them.

 

**———**

 

 

That other shoe ended up revealing itself when Sparrow insisted they find some way to destroy the aliens for good. The Brood were a threat to more than just the humans, and he didn’t want them to have any kind of opportunity to somehow spread further across the galaxy.

Jeffrey announced that he could overload what was left of the station’s life support systems, and cause the space station to explode.

Of course, he had to be ‘present’ on the station to do so, and while the resulting blast wouldn’t ‘kill’ him, it would more than likely propel him out untethered into space. None of them knew how far, or could theorize in what particular direction.

“ _No_ ,” Coulson immediately argued, “God forbid you end up headed even further _away_  from Earth. You need to be with us, so you can come back to the right timeline!”  
  


> _Phil, you forget, that this *is* my timeline... I’ve never left it. I’ve more than outlived my years,_

  
“In the middle of nowhere!” Coulson interrupted. “No. You are coming back to Earth with us, and that’s final.”  
  


> _I can’t exactly control the explosion, Phil. It’ll be like white-water rafting; I’ll have to follow the flow of the current,_

  
“What if we formed some kind of net?” Fitz put in as he thought aloud. “A safe enough distance away from the station so it doesn’t get harmed in the blast, but we have some kind of perimeter, covering all possible directions... No, that wouldn’t work; it would have to be a sphere, not simply a circle — we don’t have enough ships...”  
  


> _I hopscotched my way to Earth before. I could do it again._

  
“The odds of that success were pretty ridiculous the first time,” Simmons admitted.

“And honestly, that kind of explosion could destroy whatever of you is left,” Raven commented, and they all turned toward her slowly. “I mean... it _could_...” She shrugged apologetically.

“Can’t you like, zero in on my hand or something?” Coulson suggested, and Fitz lit up at that.

“Your prosthetic! Of course! It’s probably different enough than any of the other tech around here that it should be easy to distinguish.”  
  


> _Distinguishing Phil apart from everything else isn’t the problem. The problem is that the force of the explosion — if it doesn’t kill me, I guess — will for sure disorient me._

  
Coulson noticed how Jeffrey had said telling _him_  apart from everything, not just his hand. No one else seemed to notice, though, so he didn’t call attention to it. The statement pleased him, though, and he couldn’t help but stand a little straighter.  
  


> _It’s simply a risk I’m going to have to take._

  
“Oh, like sacrificing yourself to Shockley and his crew? To Ivanov?” Simmons raised her eyebrow, and Coulson almost could envision Jeffrey’s frustrated, mildly pouty expression.  
  


> _This is a little different than that._

  
“You’ve got to stop risking death for us all the time, Jeff,” Daisy half-joked. “There are other ways to go about things,”  
  


> _I’m already dead._

  
“Stop that.” Coulson snapped toward him, but the entire group quieted. Eventually, Jeffrey spoke again, much more softly,  
  


> _I’m sorry. That was a poor joke._

  
In the end, of course, there wasn’t really anything Coulson could do to control Jeffrey’s decision.

“Push comes to shove,” Hunter suggested, “If he doesn’t come back with us immediately, once he does find his way back to future Earth, Birdman here could toss him into the melty stone with a radio or something.”

“That’s a lovely thought.” Coulson remarked dryly.  
  


> _I would play David Bowie, for sure._

  
“Stop trying to make me smile while I’m being pissed at you,” Coulson scolded, and May raised her eyebrow at him.

“Do I want to know?” She asked, and Coulson realized Jeffrey had used their private line.

“Go on ahead, you guys, I’ll be there in a minute,” Coulson gestured toward the ship, and hung back as everyone else settled in for the last ride out. May nodded in understanding, but hesitated before she walked away.

“Mace?”  
  


> _Yeah, May?_

  
“Thanks. For now, and for... before.”  
  


> _Take care of yourself, Agent May._

  
Coulson was amazed at the almost fond tones they took with one another, and then May nodded again and slipped away toward the ship.

“I need you to promise me that you’ll find your way back to — us.” Coulson had almost been about to say ‘back to _me_ ’.  
  


> _Phil, space and time itself couldn’t keep us apart. I don’t think fate is finished with us yet._

  
Jeffrey seemed to know what Coulson had meant, anyway.

“I don’t trust fate.” Coulson replied immediately.  
  


> _Well, fine — then trust me. I’m not ready to give up yet, either. Not after having found you again._

  
Coulson didn’t know whether he’d meant that as a singular ‘you’, or if he was talking about the whole team, but Coulson kind of hoped it was in the singular.

“You’re using my own words against me.” He murmured, smiling a little.  
  


> _Go on, Phil. They’re getting close. You guys need to leave before they break through the last door._

  
“I’ll see you back home.” Coulson said determinedly, taking a step toward the space ship docking door.  
  


> _‘See’ is an operative term,_

  
“Damn it, Jeffrey, now is not the time to be a smart-ass.” Coulson griped.  
  


> _I don’t know; one of SHIELD’s finest agents taught me that times of great stress were the perfect moments to be a smart-ass._

  
He was being coy, and Coulson couldn’t help but smile as he was distinctly reminded of a conversation about Daisy, Robbie, and geese...

A slow, haunting and melancholic guitar began playing, which Coulson recognized immediately.

“You couldn’t have picked something a little more, I don’t know, uplifting?” Coulson glowered a little, hesitating as he put his hand on the hatch controls.  
  


> _I love Pink Floyd._

  
“I have a record of theirs, you know. Back home.” Coulson mentioned, and somehow he was sure that Jeffrey was smiling. That said, he didn’t even know if his record collection had survived the latest attack on their headquarters.  
  


> _We’ll listen to it._

  
Jeffrey promised, and then the hatch was lifting closed, even though Coulson hadn’t yet pressed the switch.

 _Hey you, out there in the cold_  
_getting lonely, getting old_  
_Can you feel me?_  
_Hey you, standing in the aisles_  
_With itchy feet and fading smiles_  
_Can you feel me?_  
_Hey you, don’t help them to bury the light_  
_Don’t give in without a fight_

Sparrow had keyed in their ship radio to the frequencies on the space station, so once the door sealed closed, Coulson heard the music dimly through the ship’s speakers. Sitting down and buckling himself into the remaining seat next to Daisy, Coulson finally allowed himself to feel how surreal this all was.

Looking around at his team, it was obvious that they were all pensive. They had every right to be, of course; traveling light-years across space at the whim of alien technology controlled by people they didn’t really know and didn’t have time to learn to trust.

“He’ll find us.” Daisy promised lowly, taking Coulson’s hand, reminding him suddenly of when she’d been a fledgling agent, flying for the first time. He’d been the one to take her hand, then. He was proud of the way their roles have interchanged over the years. He was proud how she knew immediately why _he_  was pensive, even if he was also mildly embarrassed by it.

“I’m proud of you, Daisy.” He thought to say out loud, wanting to make sure she knew that. She gave him a curious look, and squeezed his hand comfortingly.

“We’ll make it.” She promised just as fiercely as her previous statement. He nodded, and relaxed as much as he could against his seat.

_Hey you, would you help me to carry the stone?  
Open your heart, I’m coming home_

“Systems green,” The main pilot announced, “Undocking now.” His copilot confirmed, and then with a jolt they were clearing free from the station.

“Hang around a couple hundred yards out or so,” Simmons suggested quietly to the pilot. “Just in case.”

“He’s dangerous,” Sparrow argued, speaking just as quietly as she had, trying his best to keep their conversation away from most of the team. “Obviously his intentions to save all you people were sound, but what about once we get back? What if he decides he wants something else? Whatever that guy is, now, he can feasibly get into absolutely any account, company, weapon, government... anything he wants to.”

“You’re suggesting we give him no chance at all? Just leave him out here with nothing to connect himself to?” Simmons stared at him incredulously. “That’s inhumane.”

“He’s not human!” Sparrow hissed, pointing out.

“While I agree that he’s a dangerous entity to knowingly allow back on our planet, he _did_  just help save hundreds of people. We owe him something, for that.” The pilot announced carefully.

“Jeffrey’s not dangerous,” Mack spoke up, narrowing his eyes. They’d all heard the conversation between the agents sitting near the front, regardless of their attempts to keep their voices low. “He’s not evil.”

“Not all men who cause destruction are evil,” Sparrow noted. “Sometimes destruction happens by well-intentioned but out of control people. Here is a... being, that we have no feasible defense against, that can blow up an entire space station at will. What happens if he gets angry about something? Lashes out? What happens if he decides he wants revenge on people who’ve wronged him? We have zero ways to defend against that sort of thing.”

“Or worse, what happens if someone that truly is evil somehow manages to control him? All the secrets and weaknesses of any power in the world would be at their fingertips.” The co-pilot added.

“That wouldn’t happen; he’s not something that can be controlled in that way — he’s not built of code.” Daisy informed them.

“How do you know?” Fitz was the one who wondered. “I don’t mean that I’m agreeing to leave him behind — of course not — but Mace has to be made of _something_. I figured he exists because his connection to the Framework was cut as he was in that in-between place; the connection between body and Framework. He very well could be code.”

“He also could be the parts of his humanity that went into the Framework,” Daisy argued. “It wasn’t just code transferring between us and the machine.”

“We’re hanging back.” Coulson announced firmly, just loudly enough that they would all hear him clearly.

“Excuse me,” Sparrow narrowed his eyes warningly, “but as I’m the lead on this operation _I‘m_  the one giving the orders here,”

“All the other transports are headed back to Earth at this point.” Coulson replied. “We’re all that’s left. And _I‘m_  the ranking agent right now,”

“Technically, you’re dead of old age right now,” Sparrow retorted.

“Easy!” Daisy warned, butting in before either man could say anything else. She squeezed Coulson’s hand again, half in further warning and half in comfort. “We’ll wait for a few minutes after the station goes. You guys don’t have to worry about Jeff for long anyway — he belongs with us in our timeline and he’ll be coming back with us.”

“Like you pointed out,” Sparrow returned, “he can’t be controlled. How can you make him return to your time with you?”

“Because I trust him.” Daisy answered with a tone of finality. “And he’s one of us. A part of our team — he’ll want to come with us regardless.”

No one knew the importance of her statement more than Coulson, and he felt fiercely proud of her all over again. He only wished Jeffrey could’ve heard her.

“Fine.” Sparrow muttered, knowing he was far out-voted. “We wait five minutes. But after that I don’t care — we’re going back to Earth, and I’m sending you guys back where you belong.”

“When we belong.” Fitz corrected, and Hunter snorted at the exasperated expression Sparrow made.

Fittingly, Coulson supposed, their moment of quiet happened just at the end of the song.

_Hey you, don’t tell me there’s no hope at all  
Together we stand, divided we fall_

With the end of the song came the bright, silent explosion of the station. The radio crackled for a second before cutting out, and the silence was deafening.

Although they couldn’t hear the explosion itself, or the possible cries of dying alien bugs, it nevertheless startled them all out of their argument.

Briefly Coulson reveled that it had worked, that they had actually managed to rid this galaxy of a destructive enemy, but very quickly his body seemed to freeze with concern over Jeffrey. He vaguely felt Daisy soothing her thumb across his knuckles, no doubt noticing how his pulse raced.

For the first two minutes, no one made a sound, all waiting for some kind of confirmation that Jeffrey had managed to find their ship, connect himself to them.

“Is he going to say something? Play his little jukebox? How are we going to know,” Bobbi wondered.

Coulson’s left hand was resting atop his knee, and he stared at it.

“Will you be able to feel him?” Daisy asked a little more quietly, gently interrupting Bobbi’s question.

“No.” Coulson admitted. “I never could tell when he was tethered to my prosthetic, not unless he announced himself.”

“So he’s used your prosthetic as a holding place before?” Fitz wondered curiously. “Was he able to control it?”

“That’s kinky.” May muttered dryly, and Coulson quickly spoke over her,

“Not that I know of.” Really, there had only been one or two times where he thought his reaction times had been a little quicker than normal, with bringing up his shield in defense of the alien creatures. That really didn’t mean anything; it could be explained away with adrenalin.

“Two minutes.” Sparrow sighed after a glance at his watch.

“He’ll be here,” Daisy assured, speaking more toward Coulson than any of the others. “Maybe he’s just too worn out to tell us, after having to overload the space station.”

“Could you sense him? You know, with your powers?” Coulson asked her. She shook her head, giving him an apologetic look.

“There’s too much unfamiliar vibrational frequency with this ship. I don’t think I’ll be able to distinguish him apart from anything else in here.”

Coulson nodded, accepting that.

Fitz, Hunter, Bobbi, Simmons, and Mack all murmured to one another as they waited out the rest of their allotted time, trading stories and asking one another questions of their time apart.

Coulson was pleased to see most of his team reunited, but it was thanks to the one member who was missing, and that stood out painfully.

Daisy kept her hand securely around his, only reaffirming her grip more tightly as the pilot announced they were preparing the ‘Stargate’ transport.

They never did hear anything else from the radio.

 

**———**

 

 

One month. After living through all of that, they’d only been gone from their own timeline for a single month; twenty-six days to be exact.

The people who had sent them forward in time ended up being some kind of top-secret off-shoot organization related to the Army. Coulson didn’t recognize a single one of them, but upon his team’s return they were immediately put through an intense medical examination and then secured away individually into holding rooms.

Basically, they were prisoners. The rooms were okay — better than where they were on the space station, for sure — but they were still prisoners.

Their guards wanted to know all the details about how the team was able to survive and get out, how they managed to blow the whole station like they did.

Coulson hesitated over telling them that part, knowing that they wouldn’t believe it. He hadn’t mentioned The Voice at all during his interrogations, and he only hoped that the rest of the team followed suit.

“We had a guardian angel, I guess.” Coulson finally answered one day, with a despondent shrug. They’d been undergoing interrogation for days now, with still no sign that The Voice had followed them back to future Earth, had followed them back here to their own timeline.

“You are unbelievably lucky,” Coulson’s lead interrogator, who had introduced himself as Scott, was not saying that admiringly or in a congratulatory manner.

Scott was deeply suspicious of Coulson, but immensely patient. He never pushed for the truth or shouted threats or grew violent. If he ever figured Coulson was lying — which had happened a handful of times already — he simply stood and left the room. Coulson would still get his rationed meals, was still allowed to use the restroom when he needed it. And eventually Scott would return, and the questioning would continue.

Coulson was even allowed to keep his prosthetic on, which was one of the most surprising aspects of this whole thing.

Granted, when he’d tried to use its strength to open the door, the door wouldn’t budge. And he didn’t _really_  have a laser finger, unfortunately. He was able to keep track of time, though; he knew very well the number of days and weeks that began to pass held in this odd prison. That came as another surprise to him. His captors didn’t want to disorient him? Make him lose track of time, which would eventually have him lose track of himself? That was often a common technique — and again Coulson was reminded that these ‘Army’ soldiers were keeping rather good care of him.

He couldn’t say the same about his team — he could only hope. If any one thing drove him crazy, it was that he had no idea how the rest of his people were doing. If they were being treated as fairly as he was, if they were being asked the same questions, if they were even still alive.

Until one day — a month and a half into captivity — Coulson was guided toward a large room he’d not yet seen before. It was decorated like a hospital sitting room; chairs and small tables littered about, but it was devoid of any kind of entertainment. No windows, no books or magazines, no television or radio.

The cameras on the ceiling, pointed toward every inch of the room, were small but not bothered to be hidden. Coulson knew that his captors could see and hear everything that happened in this room.

“What — ” He turned to ask today’s no-name guard, but the man just pushed him further into the room.

“Wait here.” He ordered gruffly, and the door was sealed closed between them.

Being in the larger room made his loneliness more apparent, and Coulson could not keep himself from growing nervous. He wasn’t afraid to die — he’d done that already, anyway — but he was afraid at the possibility of leaving his friends behind. If they were still alive, then he needed to fight, he needed to stay strong.

If Jeffrey was still roaming about out there, searching for him, he needed to stay alive.

The door opened again a few minutes later, and Coulson was filled with relief as Daisy was pushed into the room.

“ _Daisy_!” He exclaimed, and they ran to one another immediately, hugging fiercely.

“Coulson, geez, it’s so good to see you,” She rambled, her chin tucked over his shoulder. “Coulson — I thought you were dead, I thought everyone was dead,”

“Is that what they told you?” He wondered, putting both hands on her shoulders so he could look at her. She didn’t appear to have been harmed, thankfully.

“No, no, they never said anything about anyone. Wouldn’t answer my questions about the team, wouldn’t even talk about them apart from whatever I might’ve mentioned during...” She trailed off, and bit her lip. “Coulson, they wanted to know everything about our time gone. If we were able to save the people on the space station.”

“They asked me the same thing,” Coulson nodded. “Did you tell them about Earth? Future Earth, I mean?”

She nodded, looking unsure of his reaction to that, and he tugged her against him again, needing to feel the security of another person. She wrapped her arms around him again unhesitatingly, relaxing against his body as if she’d craved that, too.

“They weren’t violent or really mean to me or anything,” She murmured against his shoulder, “But that almost made it worse? I was just waiting for something horrible to happen. And not knowing what happened to you or anyone else...”

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” Coulson promised, brushing his hand against the back of her hair. They stood like that for a long moment, settling themselves in one another’s presence, at least until Coulson felt Daisy stiffen.

She pulled away slowly, letting go of him and brushing her hair behind her ears.

“There are cameras in here.” She commented, and he nodded.

“Microphones, too, no doubt.” He added with a small, wry smile.

“Some music... some music would be pretty great right about now, huh?” She mused carefully, and he knew what she meant.

If Jeffrey were here, if he’d been able to follow them home, he would have been able to get them out of here.

“I don’t think these guys are the music-listening type.” Coulson figured. He wanted to know if Daisy had mentioned The Voice to these people, but he wasn’t sure how to covertly ask her.

The door opened again, and this time Mack was guided into the room.

“Coulson, Daisy,” Mack breathed in relief, and Daisy hurried over to meet him, not bothering with the door that was sealing closed once again. “Damn is it good to see you. What’s with this place?”

“Mack,” Daisy grinned widely as she hugged him, and Coulson stepped closer to them, giving Mack a warm smile in greeting.

“I’ve been asking about Elena but they won’t tell me anything. They didn’t tell me anything about any of you.” Mack told them, and Daisy nodded as she pulled back so Coulson and Mack could share a brief hug as well.

“I’m getting the impression that we may have all been put under the same microscope.” She guessed. “We’re all okay, probably? You were questioned about our space travel, right? What went down while we were gone?”

“Yeah,” Mack nodded once he and Coulson parted. “Day after day they just kept grilling me. It’s like they want to know every single second — half the time they ask me about the same stuff to make sure I haven’t missed anything.” He glowered as he set himself heavily into one of the chairs. “Weren’t they the ones who sent us out there to save those people? Why are we being treated like suspects as if we did something wrong?”

“Well, there _is_  all the shit that went down while you guys were in the Framework.” Daisy pointed out. “A lot of bad shit. And I can guess that since these guys are Army, they’re connected somehow with Talbot.”

“Talbot? He’s behind all this?” Coulson exclaimed, his chest tightening at that thought. Sure he and Glenn had their differences, but _this_? Coulson never would have expected Glenn to put them through this kind of thing. “But he’s... wait, how long has it been...” He quickly did the math in his head.

“Phil, Talbot was...” Daisy grimaced, and sat down next to Mack. Coulson sat across from them, leaning forward in his chair as he listened. “I meant, these people might be wanting revenge for Talbot. We all know that an LMD wearing my face shot him in the head.” She reminded him gravely. “Can we really assume that he... survived that?”

“We can’t assume anything.” Coulson insisted, wanting to believe that his old friend was alive. “He was stabilized the last we saw him, and... we can’t assume anything.”

“I don’t know,” Daisy shrugged, “but either way I highly doubt he’s running much of anything at the moment.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re here. Imprisoned for what the LMD’s did, but being put to use by our captors.” Mack figured.

“You think they’ll send us through the stone again?” Coulson wondered, feeling himself blanch a little.

“I hope not,” Mack grunted. “You think we’ll get as lucky as we did last time?”

Coulson looked at him carefully.

“Lucky...” He repeated, as devoid of any emotion as possible.

“Yeah,” Mack looked at him directly, raising his eyebrow. “Arriving at a station in dire need just before a trade vessel passes by, that just so happens to be capable enough to travel all the way back to future Earth? And then managing to contact and persuade future SHIELD to travel back with you to the station? A SHIELD that _also happens_  to have the time stone in their possession and under their control?” He snorted. “We were ridiculously lucky.”

Coulson relaxed immensely, understanding that Mack also hadn’t mentioned The Voice. Maybe the entire team had managed to keep Jeffrey Mace out of their stories — but then how well did their stories line up with one another? Perhaps that was why their captors were still holding them, and hounding them; trying to fill in blanks, clear up discrepancies.

If any part of this was lucky, it was that Mack’s cover story coincided so well with Coulson’s own.

“That’s what I said, too, you know.” Daisy mentioned, and Coulson looked at her sharply. She had to be careful with her wording, otherwise their guards may suspect that they’re being duped. “That we were insanely lucky. I mean, what else can you say?” She clarified, and Coulson relaxed. “This whole thing has been unbelievably insane ever since... well, probably ever since I met Robbie Reyes.”

They were allowed to spend a significant amount of time together — they were even brought their lunchtime meal to the room — but no one else came, and once they’d ascertained that they were alright, they weren’t sure what to talk about. Mostly, they simply basked in one another’s presence and comforted themselves with their friendship. It was obvious that Mack was still immensely worried over Elena, and Coulson hoped that perhaps they would be allowed to see one another soon.

Another month went by before Coulson was allowed to see anyone again, other than Scott. That was almost worse than his loneliness before; and once he did find himself roughly guided into that large sitting room again, it was to find two others already waiting there. Bobbi, and Simmons. They all greeted one another joyfully, but there was an underlying exhaustion.

Well-treated as they were, they were hardly allowed to do anything themselves. Weren’t allowed to know anything. Only within the past week had Coulson even been given something to keep his mind occupied apart from his concern over Jeffrey’s whereabouts — a deck of playing cards. They were fed well, three times a day, allowed to bathe and use the restroom as often as they required, and not one violent hand was put on them.

For a team used to being out in the world, fighting the bad guys, collaborating and studying and working toward the common good — this was torture.

And not once could Coulson keep himself from thinking about Jeffrey. He refused to accept that the man was lost to them. He probably just didn’t know where to find them, he was probably just roaming the Earth right now, searching for them.

Eventually Coulson stopped keeping track of the days, because it didn’t really matter. They were completely at the whim of these Army men.

 

**———**

 

 

Coulson awoke blearily, his mouth tasting of cotton. He knew immediately that he’d been drugged, and he struggled to sit up and get to his feet.

“Easy, Phil, easy,” May’s voice soothed, and he recognized her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. “Let it wear off, it’ll only take a minute,”

“What — May?” Coulson grumbled, licking his dry lips and rubbing at his eyes. As his vision cleared, he realized he was in some kind of motel room. Either that, or this was some new area of their holding facility he hadn’t seen yet.

“I’m not sure what city we’re in, but... we’re out,” May informed him carefully, still quite obviously suspicious. Once she was sure he wasn’t going to topple over, she let him go and moved toward the window.

Then he realized she had to step over a couple of bodies to get there.

“What the hell?” He blurted, sliding off the bed and onto his knees to check Hunter’s pulse. He and Mack were just laying there on the floor between the bed and the window.

“Guess they didn’t want to pay for more than one room.” May told him dryly, rolling her eyes before peering out the curtains.

The other two men were breathing, apparently just asleep. They’d probably been drugged with the same thing Coulson had. He turned around, and realized what May had meant. Fitz was still lying on the bed next to where Coulson had been a moment ago, and Bobbi, Simmons, and Elena were all three tucked into the other bed in the room.

“Where’s Daisy?” Coulson asked hurriedly, sucking in a breath as he stepped around the end of his bed.

“On the floor on the other side of their bed,” May gestured her head in that direction. “She’s okay, too. I woke up on the floor between the beds.” She glowered. “My back is killing me.”

Coulson only relaxed once he set his eyes upon Daisy’s sleeping form, and then furrowed his brow as he gazed at his team again.

“Why are we here?”

“Why couldn’t they at least have sprung for some extra cots?” May returned his question with one of her own.

“Why did they keep us imprisoned for so long?”

“Why did they let us go?”

The two old friends stared at one another for a long moment, and then both of them sighed heavily.

“Too many questions, no one to ask.” Coulson complained. May gestured her head toward the bureau across from the beds.

“Check out the top drawer. They left us some goodies.” She informed him.

Doing as suggested, Coulson discovered a pile of passports, all with assumed identities beside their photos, wads of American cash, and a single cell phone.

Coulson picked up the phone first, turning it on.

“Just the one phone?” He asked, and she nodded.

“I can’t recognize anything outside of this window. I also can’t say for sure if we’ve got eyes on us. I’m not seeing anything suspicious, but these guys aren’t amateurs.”

Just as the phone finished its boot-up sequence, it rang. May and Coulson shared another look, before Coulson answered it.

“Yes?”

“You have been deemed non-threatening, for the time being.” He was told by the voice of Scott — or whoever that man really was. “You’ve been provided passports and some money for food and clothes. If you set foot on U.S. soil again, we will know. Every agency has you and your team listed as priority. If you return we will not protect you. Do you understand?”

“Why are you helping us, now?” Coulson wanted to know.

“We’re just following orders.” Scott replied simply.

“You’ve interrogated us for — hell, I don’t know how long! You _know_  who’s really responsible for those Inhuman attacks, for Director Mace, for General Talbot. Why don’t you help us prove the truth, clear our names?” Coulson demanded.

“That’s not our job.”

“Well what the fuck _is_  your job?” Coulson retorted, vaguely noting that his teammates were beginning to stir.

“To follow orders.” Scott told him, just as straight-laced as before. “You’ve been granted your lives because of what you’ve done to protect this country and its people in the past. Take what freedom you have and disappear.”

The phone clicked and grew silent before Coulson could say anything else.

“Did I just hear Coulson say ‘fuck’?” Daisy mumbled sleepily, her head appearing from the other side of the bed as she sat up.

“Who was it? What did they say?” May asked him, making sure the blinds were securely closed before she approached him.

“That was... the guy from wherever we were. Scott. Said he’s just following orders.” Coulson gave her a confused look as he pocketed the phone.

“He’s helping us, but our names aren’t clear?” May questioned, having only heard his side of the conversation.

“If we set foot in the United States again, we’re dead.” Coulson clarified, glancing over at Daisy as she carefully made her way toward him.

“Let me guess, everyone and their mother is after us, huh?” She mused, blinking blearily around the room. “What the hell is with the commune living? And why was I on the floor?”

“You weren’t the only one.” May replied wryly.

“So... what are we going to do?” Daisy wondered, looking at Coulson for direction. He glanced back toward the passports and money.

“There are plenty of SHIELD facilities that weren’t in any codex. Places Director Fury told me about.” Coulson informed them. He met Daisy’s eyes again. “The Watchdogs, and Ivanov, are still out there wreaking havoc. He still has parts of the LMD programming; even with Aida dead and the Darkhold gone, he’s still a huge threat.” Coulson took a breath, and squared his shoulders. “We don’t have to be on U.S. soil to do our job.”

“We’re not giving up,” Daisy breathed in relief, and burgeoning hope.

“When have we ever?” Coulson returned, raising his eyebrow a little. The three of them shared a small smile, and then turned to help their friends as the others came to.

They’d done it before and they’ll do it again — SHIELD will rise from the ashes, and they will continue to protect people as they were meant to do.

And, they would find whatever was left of Jeffrey Mace.

 

**———**

 

 

“Yes, I love Italy!” Hunter crowed as they stepped off of the airplane, nudging shoulder-to-shoulder with impatient tourists desperate to find their luggage and leave the airport.

“Pieta,” Daisy mused quietly, her arm looped around Coulson’s as they strode behind Hunter and Bobbi. “Doesn’t that mean mercy?”

“Or pity.” Elena replied from behind them, as she, May, and Mack briefly passed by as they interspersed themselves through the crowd.

“You know where to meet,” Coulson murmured, turning his head as if he were saying something to Daisy.

Although they were theoretically allowed to travel outside of the U.S., they weren’t taking any chances, and had done their best to blend in with tourists entering Europe.

It had been stupid for the team all to take the same inbound flight to Italy, but there hadn’t been many to choose from, and honestly — after the past year that they’ve had, they were all loathe to let one another out of their sight for too long.

Coulson knew for a fact that this particular hidden base of Fury’s was protected, and unknown from most if not all of the rest of SHIELD. They would be safe there, and it would be a fine place to settle themselves.

Over the past week, as they had all meandered their way around the world with this single destination in mind, Coulson hadn’t received another word from their previous captors. He still had the deep-sensed feeling that they were being watched though, so he was constantly on edge.

They had a brief window of time to lose their tails and get to Pieta, and he trusted his team could manage it.

Pairing off with Daisy, Coulson had no doubt that she’d be able to lose a tail with ease, so he wasn’t worried about themselves in particular.

What worried him was that he still hadn’t heard a thing from Jeffrey Mace or a whispered rumor about a mysterious voice.

By the time the sun was setting and the night life was starting to rile up, Coulson and Daisy reached the particular doorway they’d been looking for. It was entirely unassuming and nothing about it told them that it was a secret base of operations, which they found comforting. The front entrance was just as unassuming as the facade, but as Coulson led Daisy down the darkened hallway and toward another door, they quickly became aware of the heightened security.

Coulson announced his agency information into an outdated-looking speaker on the wall, and when the computer recognized him the heavy door in front of them clicked and creaked open.

“Half of this block is actually the base,” Coulson told her as he guided her inside the actual front entry, making sure the door locked closed behind them. “Fury owned it all and connected the buildings together. Most of the high-tech stuff is downstairs.”

“Downstairs? As in, catacombs?” Daisy raised her eyebrow and grimaced. “I don’t know what’s worse; being surrounded by ancient dead bodies, or the threat of drowning.”

“Neither of those will be an issue,” Coulson comforted her with a small smile, finally feeling some relief that they were safe, and alone. Now all they had to do was wait for the others to arrive.

 

**———**

 

 

They couldn’t do much, since they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves, but Mack and Daisy spent the first few weeks acquiring a few computers, and a shit-ton of radios.

With the help of Fitz, Daisy cobbled together a monitoring room on the main level where they had each single radio set toward a specific frequency, covering anything they could think of. Mack and Hunter helped soundproof the room so all the different sounds couldn’t be heard through the rest of the base, or from any possible passersby on the street.

They were trying to find a way to contact Jeffrey, to see if they could somehow overhear him on one of these stations or frequencies. It was annoying as hell to be inside that room, but Coulson could often be found there regardless.

Daisy even managed to set up a computer that she used to hack into NASA to cover the energy waves that _they_  were monitoring. As she waited for some kind of sign from The Voice, she began working on a top-notch security system, studying all of the best systems around the world and theorizing with Fitz how to make them even better. She wanted to make sure  _no one_  would be able to find their new hideout — no one other than Jeffrey Mace, anyway.

For a long time, there was nothing.

After months of securing their hideout and building their little base, Coulson knew that he should be prioritizing his energies better. They were starting to receive pockets of actionable information regarding Inhumans in Europe that needed assistance, and Watchdog groups that were sprouting up in response to said Inhumans. Not to mention their hunt for Ivanov.

Plus, there was the ever-uncertain threat of the Army squad that had held them captive and interrogated them — they never went a day without assuming that this trip out into the streets of Rome would be there last in this timeline. They still had no idea who their captives really were, or what they wanted with them other than their little knowledge of the future.

Eventually, Coulson had to force himself to accept the fact that Jeffrey has, once again, given his life to save theirs. He hadn’t come back with them. He wasn’t going to speak to them through these radios.

Quietly, the team had a little memorial in his honor. All they had was a press photo of him they’d found online, but the evening they added it to their wall of the fallen, May produced a bottle of whiskey, and they all held a toast.

“He was... Catholic.” Simmons had told them quietly that morning, as they were somberly discussing what to do to remember their old Director. Coulson looked at her with some surprise, and she shuffled her feet in mild embarrassment. “At least, I think so. In the Framework, we... I got to know him a bit. I’m assuming his basic memories of his family and past hadn’t changed there from here, so... yeah. Catholic.”

For a moment Coulson felt a surge of jealousy, sharp and burning in his stomach. What other things did Simmons know about Jeffrey? Why was _she_  granted those personal moments with him, and _he_  wasn’t?

That jealousy faded away just as quickly as it had appeared, however. Simmons didn’t deserve that — and Coulson was pleased to know that Jeffrey had had a friend in the Framework.

None of them were really familiar with Catholic traditions as far as funerals or memorials went, but Daisy had looked some things up online. She was the most familiar with Latin, too, so she was the one to do the prayer part. It wasn’t much; they couldn’t afford to have an actual priest come in, they didn’t have a body or anything else really personal of Jeffrey’s, and they didn’t have any sort of place to bury anything either.

So: a photo on the wall and shots of whiskey all around. And Daisy, very carefully managing her way through a couple lines of Latin.

“Fidelium animae per misericordiam Dei requiescant in pace. Amen.”

_May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, Rest In Peace. Amen._

After a minute of silence, they all drank in unison. Hunter refilled his glass, and then set it carefully on the windowsill nearest Jeffrey’s photo.

“I didn’t know him, really, but I do know he crossed a hell of a lot of space to find us and save you guys. Makes him a good lad in my book.” Hunter explained. “He deserves a drink, too.”

He nodded once, and patted Coulson’s shoulder fondly. He knew quite well what it was like to lose a treasured teammate, and somehow he recognized that Coulson was feeling the loss a little more than the others.

Jemma was the only one who grew teary-eyed, and Coulson knew that she was thinking of the Framework. He couldn’t go there in his own mind, though. He wasn’t sure which was worse — envisioning Jeffrey being crushed to death by that collapsing building, or picturing that space station exploding into pieces.

Little by little they all drifted away, some downstairs toward the labs, some toward their rooms. May left Coulson the bottle of whiskey, wrapping her fingers around his arm for a long moment. She gazed at him with knowing eyes; the only person who probably knew Coulson as well as her was Daisy, who had also hung back after everyone else left.

“You need to let him go, Phil.” May murmured, understanding but wise. Coulson knew that she was right. After tonight, he couldn’t spend his time lamenting over this. Missing someone was one thing, but he couldn’t keeping forgoing everything else. He’d insisted on rebuilding SHIELD again. He needed to participate in that.

Then she was gone as well, and he was left standing there with Daisy. She observed him quietly, thoughtfully. After a minute, she stepped next to him and lifted her glass.

“Want another one?” She asked, knowing that he did, so he poured them both another shot. He watched as she saluted her glass toward Jeffrey’s picture and then downed it in one swallow.

He followed suit.

“I wish I’d met him in the Framework.” Daisy admitted. “He wanted so desperately to do what was right for us — for the Inhumans.”

“You know that?” Coulson wondered with some surprise. He’d had that discussion with Jeffrey himself, but he was trying to think of a time that Daisy had alone with the Director and they hadn’t been arguing about planning or policy.

“We talked, a little bit.” She conceded. “Our first Senate hearing together. A couple of times in the kitchen after hours. I didn’t know him as well as... I suppose as well as I should.” She glanced at Coulson. “I didn’t know him as well as I know you. But I think I could have, had we...”

“Had enough time.” Coulson finished quietly, and poured himself a third shot. He offered the bottle to her but she shook her head, so he screwed the cap back on and set it on the table behind them.

“I didn’t like him at first, you know.” She said definitively, and Coulson snorted. “But he was more genuine than he let on. And he saved our asses, more than once. I have to give him respect for that.”

Coulson smiled tiredly, pleased to hear that, but drained. He swallowed his last shot slowly, savoring it.

“Plus, you love him.” Daisy stated in that same calm, sure tone. Coulson jerked his gaze toward her, unsure of his emotions regarding that statement. “And I have to respect that, too.”

He wasn’t going to argue with her, although he hadn’t truly labeled his feelings for Jeffrey himself. She slipped her arms around him, and he let her hold him, resting his head over her shoulder. He looked at the photos and names scrawled on the wall behind her, and allowed himself to shed a few tears.

“We’ve lost too many people.” He mumbled, his voice cracking a little with emotion. He felt Daisy nod, but she didn’t say anything. She flattened her hands against his back and slowly rubbed up and down, soothingly.

“We’ve got to keep going,” She told him. “For them. SHIELD matters because of them, what they’ve done, what they’ve sacrificed. What _we’ve_  sacrificed.”

Coulson held her for another moment before he nodded as well.

 

**———**

 

 

They kept the radio room up and running, but all of the volume had been lowered almost entirely. They didn’t monitor it as closely, and Daisy focused mostly on her new security system, and implementing it in the buildings that they owned around them.

They caught up on what was going on in the rest of the world, and focused wholeheartedly on SHIELD’s duties. They were catching up to Ivanov; having discovered a number of his hideouts already. The unfortunate matter was that each time they killed him or — more perplexingly — found him already dead, they discovered that what they were looking at wasn’t his final body.

“How many copies did this asshole make of himself?!” Bobbi exclaimed in frustration one day, as a number of the team were hanging out in the labs with Fitz and Jemma.

“Self-righteous, evil bastard,” Fitz glowered under his breath as he fiddled with a machine he’d built inside of a silver briefcase.

“No lost love for the Russian, huh?” Hunter mused, watching with little-to-no understanding as Fitz worked.

“I don’t mind,” Daisy smirked dangerously as she tested out the feel of a new pair of gauntlets she was testing with Jemma. “It’s pretty satisfying getting to tear him apart over and over again.”

“And any time we come across him to find that somebody else has already done that?” Bobbi pointed out with a raised eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. Daisy shrugged.

“A guy like him is bound to attract the bad kind of attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if whatever he’s got his copies doing piss off other gang members or whatever.” Daisy replied. “I also wouldn’t be surprised if these Inhumans he’s kidnapping sometimes manage to get the upper hand on him.”

Jemma’s computer alerted them, then.

“Speaking of,” Hunter reacted to it, getting out of his seat to move over and peer at the screen. “Incoming.”

Fitz glanced at the screen to see security footage of Mack and May guiding a stranger between them through the catacombs, having used the back entrance to their base. Quite a few times, now, they’ve found themselves assisting Inhumans with physical and/or mental recovery before guiding them elsewhere to safety. Fitz focused back on his project.

The briefcase housed a panel that featured a number of various switches, gauges, and warning lights. He flipped the main toggle a couple of times, satisfied that it was catching the necessary internal switch, and closed up the briefcase. He made sure to lock it, and patted the top.

He would make sure it was always in working order. Just in case.

“What is that you’ve been working on, Fitz?” Bobbi wondered curiously.

“Oh, just a little side project,” Fitz waved his hand vaguely in the air, as if it were of no consequence. “It collects and assesses data across spacial and temporal paradigms,”

“Ooookay, I’m out,” Hunter interrupted as Fitz purposefully trailed off. That had been his intention, and thankfully, Hunter and Bobbi both took the bait. To her credit, Bobbi sent Fitz an apologetic eye roll about her husband, to which he smirked and shrugged. They were all used to Hunter, by now.

Jemma probably would’ve been suspicious of him, but she hadn’t been listening; too focused on securing Daisy’s new gauntlets away.

“Looks like I’ve got an interview to conduct,” Daisy grinned as she reached for her tablet. “Welcome Wagon rolling!” She stepped out into the hall to meet the other two agents and their newcomer.

They were all hoping that one of these Inhumans they helped would end up deciding to join them and help them out, but so far no such luck. Even after managing to transmit secure contact toward the surviving SHIELD agents who were holed up with Agents Piper and Davis, they hadn’t managed to grow their numbers much. They simply didn’t know who to trust, these days, other than themselves.

Fitz was working on clearing up his station, not really listening as Daisy and Jemma spoke with the new Inhuman, until he realized that the voices drifting out of the med room had quieted. Fitz paused, and listened more closely.

“Can you repeat that, please?” Jemma asked, her tone odd in a way that made Fitz’s spine straighten.

“I know, it sounds pazzesco,” The soft-spoken local woman responded, “but I swear, era uno spirito,”

“Spirit?” Daisy caught on.

“A voice. A voice from nowhere.” The Italian woman told her seriously. “I promise, after this, I’m never missing Mass ever again.”

“Can you tell us anything about this, this voice from nowhere?” Daisy asked urgently. “Any details about it that stand out to you?”

“Other than it coming from nowhere?” The woman muttered something under her breath in Italian that Fitz didn’t quite catch, and then said, “He rescued me. Kept me hopeful while I was imprisoned and then guided me to freedom once I broke out. He guided me right into your friends, it was like he knew they would be there! I always thought all those saints my mom prayed to were a joke! I’m never missing Mass again.”

“That...” Daisy trailed off, and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It couldn’t be. After all this time? It couldn’t be.”

“We haven’t heard any word, right?” Jemma checked.

“Yeah, nothing. Not a peep — he wouldn’t... he wouldn’t have done that, right? Made it back but avoided contact for so long? He wouldn’t have done that to Coulson.” Daisy sounded like she was trying to persuade herself.

“Perhaps... it wouldn’t hurt to check the radio room?” Jemma suggested, and the next thing Fitz knew, Daisy was hurrying through the labs and out into the hall.

“What’s going on?” Fitz called out after her, feigning confusion.

“Uh,” Daisy hesitated briefly. “Probably nothing.” Then she was gone, and Fitz understood. She didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.

But Fitz had heard enough.

As Jemma stepped out to get some pain medication for their new charge, Fitz slipped into the med room.

“Where were you held?” Fitz asked with no introduction, speaking lowly and quickly. “Do you remember? Could you recognize it?”

“Sì, of course,” The stranger nodded. Fitz quickly pulled out his phone and opened up the map app, shifting to stand beside her and hold the screen where they could both look at it.

“Can you point me there? Please, it’s urgent,”

“It’s dangerous,” She widened her eyes and shook her head, “the men there,”

“Please.” Fitz insisted. She stared at him for a moment, and then nodded, and showed him where to go. “Thank you! Grazie!” His Scottish dialect made that sound odd coming out of his mouth, but he was already hurrying back through the labs, barely slowing down to grab onto his silver briefcase.

“Fitz?” Jemma questioned, but he was already down the hall.

He had to hurry, if he had a chance. Past opportunities had been total busts, and this was the only time someone had actually mentioned specifically a disembodied voice had helped them.

No one else on the team was aware, but Fitz had created a machine that would be able to ‘call’ toward Mace, replicating the frequency of Coulson’s prosthetic exponentially so that Mace wouldn’t be able to miss it. The briefcase would be able to transport Mace more securely and directly until they could figure out something more permanent.

Fitz knew that he was headed right into a Watchdog hideout, so he grabbed his recently-re-acquired Dwarves as well and an Icer pistol, and snuck out toward the street where they kept one of their vehicles parked.

When Fitz arrived at the location, he sent a few of his Dwarves into the building to be his eyes and ears as he formulated a plan. The night sky offered him some comfort of anonymity, but that meant he couldn’t see as well, either. He was a bit northwest of the main part of the city, in a section of farmland, but the road was still fairly well-populated. He had to be extremely careful as to not draw the attention of anyone not already watching the team.

He’d been sitting for just over a minute when he got to observe, from across the street of the old factory, as shit hit the fan.

The Rolling Stones began playing — Sympathy For The Devil, he easily recognized — loud enough that Fitz could hear it from the car he was hiding out in. The building went entirely dark, and after a breath of eerie silence, automatic gunfire started sounding out into the night.

The music got even louder, and random sections of the building flashed with light. A shrill fire alarm cut on, and small explosions started going off. There was no way locals could keep ignoring whatever was going on inside this place, now.

After about two more minutes, a man staggered out of the front door, choking and grabbing at his neck, as if he’d breathed in poison or gas. Fitz stared wide-eyed for another moment, and then scrambled into the back of the car for a gas mask, his Icer, and the briefcase.

Ignoring the man now collapsed on the ground and darting into the building, The Rolling Stones were so loud that Fitz could barely think. He was determined to get Mace out of there, though, and he was convinced now more than ever that his hunch had been correct. Jemma had told him about how Mace had used music often in the space station, as a source of calm, entertainment, and distraction. She’d explained that Mace would sometimes blast rock music so loud that the aliens would cower and scamper away, overwhelmed by the noise.

There were blown sections of wall and pipe, which confirmed that the gas lines had burst, and Fitz made sure his gas mask was secure over his mouth and nose. It was smoky and dark in the hall, so Fitz trusted on his Dwarves and the readout on his glasses to be able to see.

There were a few bodies in the hall, but they were unmoving, so Fitz ignored them as he hurried through the building, shouting as best he could through the mask. He wanted Mace to know that he was here, and that he was a friendly.

Gunfire went off again, on the floor above him, and he hurried up the stairs. It was less smoky on the second level, so he checked that his Icer was ready to fire and slowed up a bit, tugging the gas mask up over his forehead so he could be heard better.

“I didn’t sign up for no haunted house shit!” A man just around the corner yelled, cutting into the stairway suddenly.

Fitz saw the gun in his hands and stuck his foot out, tripping up the guy and sending him barreling down the stairs. He didn’t wait to see if the guy was alright enough to turn the gun on him, and slipped away down the hall, shoving his Icer into the back of his pants as he scrambled to open up his briefcase.

“I really hope this is you, Mace, and not something else,” Fitz muttered as his fingers worked across the controls quickly to turn on the machine.

Finally — thankfully — The Rolling Stones faded out into silence, though the quiet was deafening in it’s own way after all the excessive noise.

“Sir? Director Mace?” Fitz called out hesitantly, glancing all around the hall. He had no idea if there were still any conscious bad guys left in the building. “We’ve been hearing a few stories about a mysterious Voice helping people out. Every time we try to check it out, though, you’re already gone. I hope — ” Fitz cleared his throat and brushed his palm against the back of his hair nervously.

“You!” A shout from the other end of the hall made him tense and whirl around, and dread pooled in his veins as he recognized the owner of the voice. “I should have known it was you idiots!”

Ivanov strode determinedly down the hall toward Fitz, and Fitz stood in front of the briefcase machine, hopefully blocking it from sight.

“You may have taken out my men, but you seem to have forgotten that poisonous gas isn’t going to bother me.”

Suddenly, one of the fluorescent lights above sparked and exploded, cutting off The Russian’s advance as he had to duck and cover from the flying sparks and glass. He shouted out in annoyance, and glared at Fitz from where he’d stopped a few feet away. He’d stopped walking forward, though; probably expecting more traps.

“How did you find me?” Ivanov demanded.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” Fitz admitted, and he scoffed derisively.

“Of course you weren’t — you’ve just been systematically destroying all of my hideouts and just so _happened_  to stumble  _here_  where my last body — ” He cut himself off, and narrowed his eyes again. Blood dripped from a deep cut on his forehead, but he seemed not to notice. He jerked his head in the direction of the stairwell, and paused for a moment.

Fitz tried to calm himself, and started thinking over ways he could use his Dwarves to distract The Russian enough for him to get away.

“It’s quiet.” He noticed, and Fitz would have rolled his eyes under better circumstances. “Are you alone?”

“You really think I could have done all of this on my own?” Fitz pointed out, gesturing at the building around them.

“Who else is here? This is Coulson, isn’t it? Definitely his style.” He spat on the ground, and Fitz flinched when the pipes in the wall next to him began to groan.

Slowly, Fitz raised his hands up by his ears, as if he were surrendering.

“What is that? What are you doing?” Ivanov demanded, and Fitz swallowed nervously.

“Just—showing you I’m not armed,” He explained, and the pipes groaned again, even louder.

“Who else is here?!” Ivanov shouted, annoyed and no doubt still a little terrified by the unseen enemy around him.

“Well, according to what I’ve been hearing, I think he wants you to guess,” Fitz smirked a little, and Ivanov snarled and stepped toward him threateningly. Fitz flinched and stumbled backward, slipping on a pool of blood that he hadn’t seen before. He landed hard on the floor, right next to a dead Watchdog that had been impaled in the neck with what looked to be a small copper pipe.

“That briefcase— ” Ivanov cut himself off again, and narrowed his eyes. “The Patriot serum?” He glanced around wildly, but he and Fitz were still alone. “What kind of trick is this? I know that The Patriot is dead. I destroyed his body myself!”

“Yeah, he’s pretty pissed about that,” Fitz replied, scrambling further away from the dead Watchdog and pressing his back against the wall at the end of the hall. Ivanov looked incredulous with anger.

“His heart stopped! I saw it!”

“But his brain didn’t!” Fitz yelled back triumphantly. “That’s where you and Aida got it all wrong! Dying in the Framework  _doesn’t_  always equate dying in reality! I don’t know what truly facilitated it,” Fitz smiled just a little bit, “but the data put into the Framework? What made Jeffrey Mace human? It went out.”

“Out? What does that mean?” Ivanov sneered.

“Out,” Fitz repeated, shrugging, gesturing his arms to either side of him. “To find another body.” His smile slowly widened. “Sorry to break the news to you, but you didn’t kill The Patriot.”

Ivanov snarled, and suddenly The Rolling Stones kicked on again at full volume. Fitz immediately snagged his gas mask still propped over the top of his head and pulled it down over his face, watching through fogged lenses as the pipes in the walls rattled and finally exploded apart, bursting through plaster and drywall like it was paper.

Fitz ducked but turned his head to watch as The Russian was impaled multiple times, his mouth dropping open in surprise as he fell to his knees.

“What—this can’t—” He collapsed face-first before he could finish, pieces of metal and glass pushing further through him from the weight of his body.

Fitz tucked his face into the side of his arm, doing his best to resist gagging and throwing up all over the floor. Even with the mask, the iron smell of blood and the bitter tang of gas was overwhelming, and he forced himself back onto his feet, reaching down for the briefcase. He was covered in blood from the dead man he’d been cowering next to, and his hands were shaking like a leaf, but he managed to switch on the power for the containment module in the case. He yanked the gas mask up onto his forehead long enough to call out,

“Mace, Mace, please come with me,” Fitz begged, staring down at the limp form of Ivanov as he waited for the little red light to flip green. “Please; you’ve done it, you’ve killed him, he’s got no other bodies to control,”

The Rolling Stones cut off suddenly, and then The Cranberries cut in,

_in your head, in your head, zombie, zombie, zombie, what’s in your head, in your head_

“Alright, alright, I get it — we’ll find it, we’ll find the head, alright? Together! As a team! Just come back to the base with me!”

An agonizing minute went by as The Cranberries continued to pound against Fitz’s eardrums, but then, jarringly sudden, everything went silent and the little light in the briefcase turned green. Fitz was momentarily disoriented, as the building’s electrical system attempted to flicker back on, with only mild success.

“Good, good,” Fitz breathed, shutting the case and locking it closed before tugging the mask back over his face and scrambling by Ivanov’s dead body to head down the staircase.

“You little asshole!” Shit, he forgot about the man he’d tripped down the stairs. Hesitating only momentarily, Fitz yanked his Icer free from the back of his pants and shot the Watchdog a few times. He’d be out for a few hours, and if the gas inhalation got to him... well...

“Let’s get you back home, sir,” Fitz murmured as he hurried out of the building and back to the car. He tossed the silver case into the passenger seat as he reached for his Dwarves case, urgently calling them all back and locking them in before he put the car into gear and peeled out of there.

 

**———**

 

 

When Fitz miraculously managed to park in the same space he’d vacated earlier, it was to find Agent May standing waiting on the sidewalk for him, with her arms folded across her chest. When he fell out of the car on shaking legs, she got a good look at him and was by his side in an instant, a hand on his arm as she looked him over.

“Who’s blood is this?” She demanded with concern, ascertaining that he didn’t have any open wounds himself. He shifted within her grasp to open the back door and tug the briefcase off of the seat.

“We’ve got to get to the lab,” He began, and she gripped his arm tighter, stilling him.

“Fitz. What did you do.” She ordered, and he took a steadying breath, trying to calm the frantic, excited adrenalin coursing through his veins..

“I’ve got him. I’ve got Director Mace.”

May blinked at him, and he stared back. Then she nodded as she firmly pressed her lips together and led him toward the back entrance of the base, her hand still on his arm to keep him close. Her presence also helped block his view from any of the locals they passed that might catch a glimpse of his blood-stained clothing.

“Where did you — Fitz, oh my —!” Jemma gasped when she noticed them enter the lab, dropping her clipboard on the table before she rushed toward him.

“It’s not his,” May explained, and Fitz maneuvered around to the holo-table, gently setting the blood-smeared briefcase on top of it.

He realized his hands were red, too, and finally got a good look at himself. Hell, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a horror movie.

“It’s,” He swallowed, “I’m fine, it’s not mine.”

“Who’s is it, Fitz?” May asked.

“A Watchdog, I think,” Fitz answered, shifting the case around and peering at the latches as if it weren’t his own machine and he had to break into it. “He was dead when I landed on him,”

“When you _what_?” Jemma wondered incredulously. “You went back to that factory building, didn’t you? You heard what the Inhuman had said about The Voice and you took the briefcase,”

“Yes, Jemma,” Fitz interrupted her scolding, “And I got him. I’ve got the Director.”

“You could have been killed!” She exclaimed.

“Did you hear what I just said? We’ve got Jeffrey Mace back!” Fitz repeated pointedly, and Jemma settled a little.

“I’m sorry, I just... you shouldn’t have gone alone. I can’t believe you went _alone_!” She looked down at the case, though, and sighed heavily, releasing her frustrations. “Are you sure he’s in there?”

“Well,” Fitz mused, “The painfully loud music cut off in the building and the little green light turned on in the briefcase, so I figured there’s a good chance that it worked.”

May stepped up to the other side of Jemma, looking down at the case as well. It was rather nondescript, other than the smears of blood it now featured.

“How do we get him out of there, though? How do we...” She gestured vaguely, “bring him back for real?”

Fitz and Simmons shared a weary look.

“That, I’m not sure of, yet.” Fitz admitted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Find You,_ Ruelle  
>  _Hey You,_ Pink Floyd  
>  _Sympathy for the Devil,_ The Rolling Stones  
>  _Zombie,_ The Cranberries
> 
>  _pazzesco_ \- crazy, insane, mad  
>  _era uno spirito_ \- it was a spirit  
>  (Apologies if any of my Italian is off! It’s been quite a few years since I’ve studied or practiced it.)
> 
> The Latin Daisy speaks is a common Catholic prayer over departed souls.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, the final chapter. Fic rating is going up to M. Thank you for coming along with me on this ride. :)

“Can you... hear me?” Coulson spoke toward the briefcase hesitantly. Simmons and Fitz had brought it to his office upstairs in the main part of the house, and had left him alone with it, but he still found himself glancing surreptitiously about the room. 

> _Yes._

Jeffrey’s answer took a while to come, and it was filled with something that sounded a lot like regret.

Coulson had so many things he wanted to say first, he wasn’t sure where to begin. Hearing Jeffrey’s voice again was both an immense relief and an incredibly sharp pain. He hadn’t believed Fitz, at first, when he’d been told that Jeffrey had been found. And now...

“How... why didn’t you ever say anything?” Coulson asked, wishing he didn’t sound so hurt. “You came back with us?”

> _Yes. Though I wasn’t sure of that at first. I got separated from you. When I was certain of being on the right Earth and in the right time, I couldn’t find you. I thought something went wrong, that somehow *I* went through and *you* didn’t. I searched everywhere, and I couldn’t find any of you. I... got angry._

From his tone Coulson had a feeling that ‘I got angry’ didn’t quite cover it.

> _I discovered that Ivanov was still amassing Watchdog hideouts, so I used that as an outlet for my anger. I started taking them down, one by one. And then I found Ivanov, and traced him back to another hideout... another Ivanov... well, Fitz found me while I was taking out the last of his bodies._

“So you’re the one who’d been destroying the LMD’s,” Coulson confirmed. He wasn’t sure what to think of that. Some of the damage had been rather brutal, and that was rather out of character for Jeffrey.

> _Like I said, I was very angry. At a lot of things. I thought you were... I thought you were gone._

“I thought _you_ were gone! We had a damn memorial for you!”

> _You did?_

“Don’t act all touched about that! I thought you were _dead_.”

> _Technically..._

“Don’t you even go there.”

Jeffrey was silent for a respectful moment, and then asked,

> _Why couldn’t I find you? I looked everywhere; even all the old bases that I could remember. I should have at least been able to find *you*, if not the rest of the team._

“Me... because of my hand?” Coulson remembered, tapping his fingers lightly atop the briefcase. Jeffrey made an odd sort of sighing noise.

> _Partially, yes._

Jeffrey answered simply, and didn’t add anything else.

“Okay...” Coulson made an odd expression at the briefcase, but settled more comfortably into his chair as he answered Jeffrey’s question, “We were held captive for a while as soon as we returned. They wanted to get every detail out of us they could about the future.”

> _Every detail?_

“Well obviously we didn’t tell them everything.”

> _Obviously._

Coulson did his best not to roll his eyes at Jeffrey’s dry remark.

> _They?_

“Our captors. The people who sent us into the future. Army black-ops unit, probably.”

> _That sounds like a mess._

“You have no idea.” 

> _I should have kept looking for you. They didn’t hurt you guys too badly, did they?_

“No, no, don’t worry about that,” Coulson quickly assured him, half-joking, “Just some light torture.”

> _Phillip._

“They wanted information more than anything else. We’ve all been through far worse.”

> _I should have kept looking._

Jeffrey repeated himself stubbornly.

“Jeffrey, you wouldn’t have found us. We were underground, I think, and the place was... weird. Daisy says it had no vibrational frequencies at all. It was like the whole place was made out of Vibranium or something — which we all know is impossible.”

> _They were military?_

“I think some kind of contingency Talbot set up.”

> _Contingency? A contingency that sends you through an alien stone into the future to save a random group of people on an abandoned space station? Talbot is smart, but he’s not all-knowing._

“I don’t know. But we were conveniently hidden from the rest of the world that wants us dead and then provided papers to get out of the country. Talbot’s group are the _only_  people who might be even mildly on our side, these days.”

> _How is he doing?_

Jeffrey asked quietly, deeply concerned.

“Last I heard, he’s recovering. It’s... slow going. But he’s alive.” Coulson tried to keep his tone even, not wanting to worry Jeffrey more.

> _Phil?_

“Yeah, Jeff?”

> _I’m really glad you’re not dead._

Coulson smiled ruefully at Jeffrey’s earnest tone.

“Yeah, ditto.” He replied warmly.

**———**

 

“Coulson... you’re not going to believe what I found.” Daisy spoke with a dreadful seriousness that immediately alerted him. “Can you um... hey, Jeff, do you mind if I move you out of the room for a minute?”

> _Not like I can stop you._

Jeffrey had been getting increasingly broody as the days grew into weeks and there was still no sign of being able to transfer him from the briefcase into something a bit more livable.

“Thanks, I’ll be quick,” Daisy promised, picking up the briefcase from the bookshelf it rested on and stepping out of the office briefly.

“Must be important if she called all of us in here,” Fitz noted, glancing at Simmons, Mack, and May each in turn.

Daisy closed the door when she returned and stepped toward Coulson’s desk.

“I found Mace’s body.”

“Well, thanks for getting right to it,” Mack replied sarcastically. “What does that even mean, ‘his body’?”

“The LMD?” May questioned, and Daisy shook her head. Coulson slowly stood up from his chair.

“I mean, _Mace's body_.” She focused on Coulson. “Those people who kidnapped us? We were right — they’re associated with Talbot. And while I don’t understand entirely their side of things, I think I know a part of the reason why they kept us in holding for so long — they have Mace.”

“They kept his body? After it had washed up to shore?” Simmons asked, and Daisy nodded, glancing down at the notepad in her hands.

“Ivanov had beat — ” Daisy glanced up toward Coulson for a moment and amended her words, “Well, word is it was horrifying but mostly intact. And instead of burying it in that closed casket everybody saw on the television, they tucked it away in some secret facility. There was a project called Phoenix’s Cradle and,”

“Wait, what?” Fitz interrupted her. “The project was what?”

“Phoenix’s Cradle. Kind of ostentatious, but this is the American government we’re talking about, so,” She shrugged.

“That can’t be a coincidence.” Fitz muttered thoughtfully, and Simmons caught on to his thinking.

“The Icer technology you, Bobbi, and Hunter froze yourselves in. SHIELD in the future named it Project Phoenix, didn’t they?” She recalled, and Fitz nodded.

“I don’t even want to start trying to unravel time travel coincidences or paradoxes,” Daisy shook her head. “But what I’m saying is the government has kept Mace’s body. Not only on ice, but inside some kind of machine. A machine that has been healing and rebuilding everything that had been broken.”

“What?” Coulson wasn’t sure where to take this, and wasn’t sure if he dared to.

“The only thing missing, Coulson, is Mace himself. His body is healthy. His actual, human body.” She stepped forward and put her hand atop his. He hadn’t realized he’d been anxiously pressing his palms down atop his desk as he listened to her, but her touch helped him to relax. “We don’t have to worry about an LMD.”

“This is impossible.” Mack commented in disbelief.

“We’ve travelled through time, Mack.” May replied dryly. “You’re really going to draw the line here?”

“You can’t just put a person’s soul back into their body! Playing God is exactly what turned AIDA into a crazy evil robot!” Mack protested.

“While that’s less scientific than I would put it...” Fitz spoke up as he thought aloud. “That’s more or less what the Framework gear did. Facilitated a transfer between this world and the Framework. If I reworked one of the headpieces, and could connect it between the briefcase and Mace’s body, we could probably...” He trailed off, and looked toward Simmons.

“I can’t say for certain, without seeing the state of his body myself.” Simmons wasn’t so sure. “Coulson here notwithstanding, the brain can’t simply begin working again after being dead — particularly when it’s been _months_  of inactivity.”

“But I had help,” Coulson pointed out. “The GH serum.” Simmons shook her head.

“I highly doubt Mace would survive a kickstart such as that, especially with our inability to do anything about his memory. All of those side-effects from the serum unhindered would more than likely make him go mad within a week.”

“What else do you know about the machine that the body is in?” Fitz asked Daisy.

“Not much. Just that it, or it’s design, wasn’t originally theirs — surprise, surprise.” She rolled her eyes. “And I can’t say this for sure, but I’ve got a serious feeling that this machine is located in the same place we’d been held for a few months.”

“Why?” May asked.

“It would help explain some things,” Daisy reasoned. “Why they sent us into the future in the first place. Why they held us hostage once we returned, and interrogated us about what we saw and who we met. What if they were trying to find proof of Mace? What if they had some idea, somehow, that he wasn’t totally gone after the Framework?”

“Then why didn’t they ask us outright?” Coulson pointed out, straightening and casually folding his arms across his chest. “Why didn’t they ask us if we’d seen Mace?”

“Maybe they can’t,” Daisy shrugged tiredly. “Maybe they didn’t want to risk sounding bat-shit crazy by asking us if we’d run into a dead man during our travels through space.”

“He said his job was to follow orders,” Coulson remembered, and Daisy raised her eyebrow a little at him. “Mace, especially after he’d been found murdered, had been a national figure. Even if only half the country actually liked him, most people have at least seen his picture on tv. For the sake of confidentiality it is actually entirely possible they were ordered never to speak of Mace in any way.”

“So they tried to twist it out of us?” Mack snorted. “They could’ve done a better job. Maybe alluded to the topic a bit more, even ask if we ‘ran into any other old friends out there,’” He gestured vaguely through the air.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Daisy gathered the focus again. “We find that facility we were held at, we find this machine. We find Mace.”

“There’s the rub,” Coulson said. “While I figured that we were being held in the continental U.S., I have no idea where. That’s a _lot_  of land to look for a secret underground facility, particularly considering we will be shot on sight by your pick of agency the moment we’re seen on American soil.”

“That’s why _we_  aren’t going,” Daisy told him, and he bristled. She held her hand up before he could verbally protest. “Hiding in plain sight has been what I’ve been doing for _years_ , Phil. Becoming a different person, hiding under the radar? It’s what I do best.”

“That was before you became Quake,” Coulson pointed out, and she pursed her lips for a moment at that.

“That makes things a bit more difficult,” She reasoned, “but not impossible.”

“I’m dead to the world. Let me come.”

“No — you need to be here. Lead what SHIELD we have left.” May instructed, and stepped next to Daisy. “I’ll go.”

“In the meantime I can work on the tech,” Fitz told them. “Of course we don’t have any of the equipment here, but I still have the schematics for the helmets. I could make a new one.”

“With oversight.” Coulson warned starkly, and Fitz nodded in understanding. “And if this works, as soon as we’re done with the thing we’re destroying it.”

They all stood in silence for a moment.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” Mack eventually muttered. “Alright Frankenstein, let’s head to the labs. I’ll help you with the magic helmet.” He gestured toward Fitz, who frowned at the nicknames but led the way out of the office with Simmons and Mack in tow.

“And somebody bring Mace back in here!” Coulson called out as the rest of them began to shuffle out of the office. He sat down heavily in his chair, and Daisy stepped close to his desk again.

“I’ll keep you updated constantly. If I can get at least a general location before we fly out, it’ll make our job on the back end so much easier.” She said comfortingly.

“And how will you smuggle an unconscious-technically-dead body out of one country and into another? We don’t have QuinJets to use, and even if we did, everyone knows to be looking for them.”

“Well... it’s a good thing I know somebody with a hybrid vehicle...” She mused slowly. Coulson blinked at her.

“You are _not_  stuffing a dead body into the trunk of my car!” He exclaimed, just as May carried the briefcase back into the room. She set it atop Coulson’s desk with a suspicious expression, but quickly turned and left the room again. Jeffrey didn’t mind asking.

> _What did you just say about a dead body in your trunk?_

“Nothing,” Coulson answered immediately, and narrowed his eyes at Daisy though he reached into his desk and retrieved his keys. “Not a scratch, Johnson, or you’ll be detailing her yourself.”

“In your dreams,” Daisy teased as she accepted the keys and walked toward the door with a bit of a bounce in her step. She paused and turned back around for a moment. “Wait, no, it wouldn’t be _me_  you’re dreaming of — ”

“Get out,” Coulson interrupted with a huff, and Daisy grinned at the redness of his face before she disappeared around the corner into the hall.

> _You were talking about me, weren’t you. That’s why Daisy didn’t want me in the room._

“Oh sure, you’re the one I dream of at night,” Coulson replied sarcastically as he settled behind his desk, trying not to think too much about how true that really was. Jeffrey replied dryly,

> _I’m flattered, Phil. But that’s not what I meant._

Coulson wasn’t immediately sure what to say to that.

> _The team was talking about me. Weren’t you? I’m stuck inside this thing, aren’t I._

“No!” Coulson immediately assured him, leaning forward in his seat. “Of course not, we’re working on a solution! You’re not going to live inside of a damn briefcase, Jeffrey, I promise.”

Jeffrey took a moment to reply, but his tone sounded warm and hopeful once more.

> _Thank you, Phil._

  
**———**

 

 _I was a billion little pieces_  
_Til you pull me into focus_  
_Astronomy in reverse  
_ _It was me who was discovered_

Coulson stood anxiously just outside the doorway, fiddling his fingers together fervently for a moment. What would Jeffrey look like? Would he be the exact same, entirely unchanged, or would he be unfamiliar? Was he totally and completely in control of his body, or would he have to answer to some kind of computer program they weren’t aware of? Will he have to relearn basic human movements and gestures, after having not been a corporeal form for so long?

Would he even want Coulson to see him so soon?

Steeling his nerves, Coulson relaxed his hands by his sides and squared his shoulders. He could hear murmuring between Simmons and Jeffrey as the doctor went through final checks. Coulson’s fingers threatened to twitch again, but it was out of excitement this time. He clenched his fists once before settling himself again and stepping up to the door.

It was Jeffrey’s _voice_ , not just in his head or coming from a speaker, but real and warm and alive.

He knocked twice, announcing his presence, and entered when Simmons called out ‘Come in’.

The room was actually kind of nice, considering they’d just performed some kind of Mary Shelley shit in here. Someone had even hung a few pictures on the walls — various shots of Italian cities and countryside — and there was a vase of flowers by the window. It almost looked more like a bedroom than a medical lab.

Save for all the machines tucked into the corners of the room, and the medical bed with the restraints on the foot and side bars. They hadn’t been taking any chances with rogue programming, although Daisy had said the machine they’d found him in was nothing like the Framework machines, and Simmons had confirmed that Jeffrey’s body was human.

Coulson found that he had no problem recognizing Jeffrey.

_Suddenly I see you_

He stilled in the doorway, knocked breathless as he stared at where Jeffrey stood next to the bed. Jeffrey had been around, more or less, sure, but Coulson had _missed_  him. He didn’t realize quite how much until he felt himself tearing up as he stared at those shoulders beneath that t-shirt, that curly hair (a little longer than usual — briefly Coulson wondered if it had grown even while the body had been ‘uninhabited’), that soft smile, those blue eyes.

 _At first I thought you were a constellation_  
_I made a map of your stars, and I had a revelation:_  
_You’re as beautiful as endless_  
_You’re the universe, I’m helpless  
_ _And suddenly I see you_

Coulson blinked, startled, as he realized that Jeffrey was staring back at him.

“Phillip,” Jeffrey breathed in immense relief, as if Coulson himself had been the tenuous experiment, and Coulson was only half aware of Simmons’ gentle smile as his feet took him further into the room, closer to Jeffrey.

“It worked,” Coulson half-questioned, half-stated in wonder. Jeffrey’s chest was rising and falling with breath, his skin mildly flushed with excitement, his eyes alight. He was _alive_.

Jeffrey held his hands out to either side and looked down at himself.

“Supposedly it’s like riding a bike,” He joked, grinning widely back up at Coulson, “Though I have to admit it’s all pretty overwhelming.” He scratched absently at his chest, and Coulson raised his eyebrow at the face Simmons made.

“We should probably invest in some softer clothing for you,” She mused. “It will get expensive, but higher thread count will feel more comfortable against your skin.” She jotted down some notes on the clipboard in her hands.

“Clothing must be pretty weird, now, huh?” Coulson realized with a smirk, and Jeffrey nodded at him seriously, his eyes poring over Coulson’s form as if he were trying to memorize everything about him.

“Not just that,” Jeffrey corrected. “Everything. Breeze against my skin, changes in temperature, the way food tastes...” His gaze darted up to meet Coulson’s. “Being able to see, to truly _see_  again, is...” He trailed off, his expression unsettling.

Not necessarily in a bad way, either, but it made Coulson clench his jaw to keep the flush out of his cheeks as Simmons observed the two of them with a secretive smile.

“Well, if everything is like a brand new experience for you again, then we’re living in the right city,” Coulson replied lightly, with a small chuckle that he was pleased to find didn’t sound too forced.

“Oh man, Cacio e Pepe,” Jeffrey moaned, “When in Rome, right?”

“Perhaps start with something a little less rich, Jeffrey?” Simmons advised pointedly. “Take it slow. Don’t overwhelm yourself. Besides the fact that your body may physically take a while to accept richer foods.”

Jeffrey’s pout was jarringly familiar, and Coulson’s chest ached.

“I could make you some soup,” He found himself offering. “Something simple.” He added, for Simmons’ benefit. Jeffrey immediately brightened, and Coulson couldn’t keep from smiling as well.

**———**

 

Coulson was happy for himself that he picked something simple to cook, because he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting over toward Jeffrey every minute or so. He was sitting carefully at the table while Coulson cooked, his hands pressed flat against the wood. He slid his palms over it slowly, musingly, pondering the feel. Coulson wondered what exactly he was thinking.

He couldn’t stop looking at him. He kept wondering if he was hallucinating, and then he wondered if this had been how Maria Hill had felt the first time she’d seen Coulson after TAHITI.

Some of the others arrived in the kitchen and greeted Jeffrey excitedly. This helped ease Coulson’s anxiousness — they couldn’t _all_  be hallucinating the same thing, right? Jeffrey was just as pleased to see his team face-to-face again, but it was also fairly obvious that he was pretty overwhelmed

“Alright, alright, let’s give him some space,” Mack suggested, noticing Jeffrey’s discomfort. He guided everyone to calm down and further suggested that they take their time with Jeffrey instead of barraging him all at once with questions and hugs.

Most of the team eventually drifted out of the room again, with fond and apologetic smiles, promising to stop by and see Jeffrey later. Jeffrey made sure to thank each of them, particularly Fitz and Daisy. Mack was the one to hang around, and sat down at the table with Jeffrey.

Coulson continued to prepare Jeffrey’s meal quietly, observing curiously as the two men bonded. It wasn’t something he would have expected, with Mack’s past distrust of Jeffrey, but it warmed his heart to see friendship growing in front of him now.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Coulson truly believed that they would be okay.

**———**

 

Coulson stopped by Jeffrey’s room a few days later to find him standing in front of the mirror on his wall, his head turned to the side as he pushed his fingers through his hair.

Jeffrey’s hair was grayer than it had been before, particularly at the temples above his ears. By his expression, he was obviously unsettled by it, though Coulson wasn’t sure exactly why. It wasn’t a bad look.

“Makes you more distinguished,” Coulson murmured as he stepped just inside of the door. Jeffrey turned to him in surprise, mildly embarrassed to have been caught gauging himself in the mirror. Coulson was unable to keep from approaching closer and brushing his fingers briefly against the side of Jeffrey’s head. His hair was soft, and Coulson wanted to keep touching it, but he didn’t.

“Considering that sometimes I very clearly feel my hundred-plus years, I suppose I should feel lucky that the computer didn’t make me even more wrinkly.” Jeffrey commented as he pressed his fingers against his cheeks, drawing them down slightly. Coulson gently slapped his hands away from his face, and smirked.

“You’re still less wrinkly than me, so stop complaining,” He lightly joked.

Jeffrey’s expression softened entirely, and the way he looked at Coulson made Coulson breathless.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” Jeffrey admitted, lifting his hands toward Coulson’s face now, cradling his jaw between his palms. “So much character.” He brushed his thumbs against Coulson’s cheeks, admiring him as a sculptor might their work of art.

“ _Jeff_ ,” Coulson whispered, overwhelmed.

Jeffrey had very quickly developed a habit of this; dropping sudden deeply intimate and sincere moments on not only Coulson, but the rest of the team as well. Granted, the underlying tone was a little different with Coulson in particular. They were moments that held such a weight that Coulson didn’t have words to say, and Jeffrey never seemed to _need_  words. He would just look at Coulson like he was looking _into_  him, seeing all of what he was and what he could be, and admiring it all. It always made Coulson feel... well, beloved.

He was afraid to voice this, though, because it also always served as a reminder that Jeffrey had actually _lived_  those one hundred years. How could someone who had lived among the stars for so long be looking at Coulson like he was more beautiful than any of it?

Jeffrey’s hands were warm and firm, and Coulson’s heart felt so full he was afraid he might just say to hell with it and kiss the man.

He loved him, desperately. That was the best description he could think of; desperate. It was a feeling that clawed at his insides, his self-control. It made him want to do stupid things, reckless things, silly things.

He kept his mouth shut, and he kept very still within Jeffrey’s touch. Jeffrey was still healing, still in recovery, and the team was still working on building up their little outpost here. It was not the time for Coulson to be feeling... desperate.

“Everything about you is beautiful, you know.” Jeffrey informed him wondrously. “Even your aura; you — ” He cut himself off and then chuckled quietly. “You are different than any other person I’ve ever seen.”

“Jeffrey, I — ”

“I’m sorry,” Jeffrey interrupted Coulson’s almost-declaration, and dropped his hands from Coulson’s face as he stepped away. “I’m trying to stop doing that. I know it makes people uncomfortable.” He pursed his lips in annoyance at himself, pressing his hands firmly against the white linen trousers he’d opted to try out today.

Coulson just stared at his legs, now, distracted. Living in Italy provided a huge help for finding clothes that didn’t overwhelm Jeffrey’s senses, but it _wasn't_  so helpful for Coulson, or for his attention span.

“I, uh, it’s okay.” Coulson managed to say, forcing his eyes back toward Jeffrey’s face. Now that he was sure he wasn’t about to blurt out his deepest feelings for the man, he swallowed and focused. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, Jeffrey,” Coulson assured him, and then smirked just a tiny bit. “Not in a bad way, anyway.”

There, that wasn’t too much, right? Nothing too direct?

Jeffrey’s answering smile was slow and made Coulson’s spine tingle.

“I’ve got to go on a little recon with Bobbi. You want anything while we’re out?” Coulson asked, drawing forth every ounce of his professionalism he could manage.

“Some gelato? Mango if they have it.” Jeffrey requested hopefully.

“Got it,” Coulson smiled warmly. He gave Jeffrey a little nod and headed out of there quickly. He just didn’t trust his own self control around that man anymore.

Don’t be reckless, don’t be reckless, don’t be reckless....

**———**

 

“Have you told him, yet?” Daisy asked Coulson.

“Told who what?” Coulson replied, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Daisy rolled her eyes, reading him like a book.

“He’s been asking me for a week now about going outside. We should let him, Phil. Just for short periods, so he’s not overwhelmed by everything. He’s not a prisoner.”

“Of course he’s not a prisoner,” Coulson scoffed, wondering at her direction of topic. “What if someone sees him, though? Recognizes him?”

“That’s not what you’re afraid of.” Daisy shook her head, knowing him. Coulson shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with admitting it, even to her. “You won’t lose him, Phil.” She assured him softly.

“You don’t know that.”

“Go with him.” She returned, and he raised his eyebrow.

“What?”

“Go with him. Go on adventures. Discover Rome. Eat new food. Have fun.”

“Daisy, I can’t just — we’re trying to clear our names, here. We’re hunted by pretty much _everyone_ , even our former closest allies. We don’t have the time or the funds for me to go on _vacation_.” Coulson argued.

“I disagree,” She leaned forward, growing more serious with him now. “You deserve a break, Phil. And it’s not like you’re going away anywhere. Besides, you know I can easily front some funds from some Watchdog accounts I haven’t cleaned out yet,”

“That’s dangerous,” Coulson warned, “No doubt the FBI is keeping a close eye on those accounts,”

“And we can cover what few cases we’ve been getting while you guys go relax.” Daisy finished, as if Coulson hadn’t spoken.

It took him a couple more days to admit it, but Coulson eventually did take up Daisy’s offer. And following her smart suggestion, they only walked a couple of miles or so the first few times they went out.

It was not relaxing for Coulson, though.

Whenever Jeffrey started to feel overwhelmed by something, he would reach for Coulson’s hand, card their fingers together, and hold on tightly. Every single time, Coulson felt like his heart would stop, and he always felt like an asshole too, because Jeffrey was just seeking out comfort and here he was marveling at the feeling of Jeff’s hand in his own. Instead of being primarily concerned over how Jeffrey was doing, he was appreciative of those moments when they touched.

Jeffrey’s sensitivity to the world around him wasn’t always easy to manage, but Coulson loved to watch him rediscover foods as if everything were brand new to him. The way his eyes would light up in amazement whenever he tasted something that he thought had been good before; now it was like nirvana for him. His eyes glowed like that as well when he talked about the glorious things he’d seen in space, as he and Coulson sat across from one another outside of coffee shops. Sometimes quite literally, Coulson would sit there and listen to him for hours while he talked about what his life had been like without form. It wasn’t all wondrous and amazing, of course, but Coulson drank it all in. He could not imagine having survived such loneliness himself, and he was eternally glad that whatever workings had been in charge — whether it be fate, or destiny, or mysterious dark-ops military groups — he was grateful that Jeffrey had ended up on that space station. At least he hadn’t been alone for the entire one-hundred years.

“What are you thinking?” Jeffrey asked one morning, looking at Coulson in that deeply attentive way he did nowadays. Coulson realized he’d stopped his story-telling, and blinked.

“I was listening to you.”

“I’m tired of talking,” Jeffrey tilted his head slightly and gave Coulson a tiny smile. “I want to know what you’re thinking.”

It was true that Coulson was the quieter one during their excursions, other than when they hit some historical places and he excitedly spouted off what he knew about them. He wanted these trips to be about Jeffrey, and anyway, he was too terrified that he might blurt out something inappropriate if he let himself talk too much.

“What I’m thinking,” Coulson mused, stalling. He was thinking about how much he loved him. It was what he was always thinking about, outside of work.

“If you’d like to go back, get some work done, I understand.” Jeffrey mentioned. “I know there’s a lot to be done and SHIELD isn’t nearly what it used to be,”

“Woah, woah, slow down,” Coulson furrowed his brow. “You think I’d rather be sitting at my desk right now?” He gestured around them, pointing out how the morning sun lit up the patio, the small sounds of the few other patrons as they murmured together and shifted their breakfast dishes. Water was streaming from a gutter somewhere nearby and they could easily pretend they were sitting right next to the coast.

“I haven’t forgotten how much you love your work,” Jeffrey raised his eyebrow just a little bit. “SHIELD is who you are, Phil. I don’t want you to pretend otherwise,” He spoke carefully.

“I’m not — this isn’t pretending.” Coulson insisted. “Daisy had to practically _order_  me to join you on these day trips,” Jeffrey furrowed his brow at that, and Coulson grimaced at his hurt expression. “That’s not what I meant. I mean,” Well, fuck it, “I do want to be here with you. Right now, doing this. _Not_  working. And I certainly don’t prefer _paperwork_  over your company, Jeffrey.”

“You seem distracted. I just don’t want to be pulling you from work if things need to be done,” Jeffrey replied softly, and Coulson reached for his hand where it rested on the table, grasping it firmly. Jeffrey started in surprise at the touch but didn’t pull away. Coulson never initiated touch.

“I’m distracted by you,” Coulson admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “All the time. Yes I still worry about SHIELD and my agents, my friends, the fate of the world — but every other second I’m thinking about you. I’m watching you. I’m listening to you. I’m— I’m wondering when the next time you’ll reach for my hand.”

Jeffrey blinked at him, looking hopeful now, and Coulson gave his hand a squeeze.

“Every day I am amazed that you are here in front of me, and with the way my life has been, it’s sometimes hard for me to accept that. To allow myself to just be happy in the moment; happy that my team is safe and strong and that I’m still alive and that you’re still alive.”

“More accurate to say ‘alive again’, probably.” Jeffrey pointed out, and Coulson pursed his lips.

“We’ve both cheated death. And I can’t help but wonder if it’s waiting for us.” Coulson sighed. “I’m just grateful, Jeff. When you see me looking at you and maybe it’s like my mind is wandering — I’m thinking about how grateful I am.”

Jeffrey looked immensely pleased, and on the verge of tears. Coulson hadn’t wanted to overwhelm the man, but just as he’d expected, once he started talking he just couldn’t stop.

“That’s how I feel about you,” Jeffrey murmured, twisting his wrist so he could return Coulson’s grip. “Grateful.”

It was obvious that there was more to that, but they simply smiled at one another, both of them understanding.

**———**

 

Coulson walked into Jeffrey’s quarters and jerked to a halt when he found him lying on his back in the middle of the floor. Briefly, his heart stopped, in concern that something horrible had happened. Then he realized that Jeffrey was smiling softly, running his palms back and forth over the plush rug he was on top of.

Then, Coulson’s heart stuttered for another reason — Jeffrey had nothing on but his underwear. The fabric was black, and looked very soft.

“Uh, Jeffrey?” Coulson managed, swallowing down his arousal. Nothing he could do about the boner, though; he just hoped Jeffrey wouldn’t notice.

“Hmm?” Jeffrey replied lazily, tilting his chin back to look up at Coulson, upside down. “Oh, hey Phillip.” He smiled a little and then relaxed his neck, closing his eyes again. “Have you ever noticed how soft this rug is?”

Coulson swallowed hard, again.

“No, I can’t say I have.” He had no idea how he spoke without his voice wavering. He couldn’t stop staring at all that _skin_. That real, very touchable, skin.

“Come here, you have to touch this,” Jeffrey encouraged, patting the floor next to him. Yes, Coulson felt he had to touch that too, but he wasn’t thinking of the rug. Jeffrey had his bare feet planted flat on the floor, his bent knees causing the ends of his underwear to fall a bit higher near the inner curve of his thighs. Holy hell, that was a lot of leg.

“Jeff...” Coulson carefully suggested, “Perhaps you should put some clothes on? Someone else may walk in here,”

“Then lock the door,” Jeffrey replied with a tiny furrow of his brow. “This feels _amazing_  and I’m not getting up any time soon.”

Fuck. Coulson clenched his jaw as he closed the door, quietly turning the lock. He walked a somewhat wide berth around Jeffrey’s prone form, until he stood across from his feet, and propped his hands on his hips as he looked down at him.

“Everything is just... so _much_.” Jeffrey murmured thoughtfully, his eyes still closed. “Course that makes the bad things really suck, but the good stuff...” He trailed off again, and Coulson gritted his teeth. “I don’t have the words to explain how amazing this feels.”

Coulson knew he was probably gaping a little bit, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jeffrey now, imagining all sorts of things that felt good and amazing.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jeffrey wondered, calmly curious. Coulson blinked slowly, dragging his eyes along Jeffrey’s torso before meeting his opened eyes and answering him honestly.

“I find that... now that I _can_  look at you, it’s all I want to do.”

Jeffrey’s eyes softened, the corners creasing with a gentle smile. Coulson felt such an urge to kiss the man that he actually stepped closer toward his feet.

“Only look?” Jeffrey wondered quietly, as if he knew, and Coulson’s heart jumped in his throat. Jeffrey spread his feet apart slightly, and Coulson’s mouth went dry. “Come here, Phil,” He murmured.

Coulson had no control over himself as he dropped to his knees between Jeffrey’s feet, resting on his haunches as he touched his calves with shaking fingers.

“No, not just look,” Coulson admitted breathlessly, his eyes on the path his hands were taking; sliding up over Jeffrey’s knees and then down his thighs, sensuously slowly.

Jeffrey’s muscles tensed and coiled beneath his fingers, extremely responsive to his touch. Coulson looked up to observe his expression, catching the way his chest heaved and a flush spread over his skin. Captivated by that, Coulson reached forward to wrap his fingers along the curve of Jeffrey’s ribs, marveling how his sides pressed back against Coulson's hands as he breathed.

He could feel how Jeffrey’s heart thudded in his chest, and he dragged his touch over Jeffrey’s torso, his hands meeting together atop his sternum. The dips and curves of his muscles were just pronounced enough that Coulson desperately wanted to trace his tongue along them. His chest was broad, a smattering of hair right at the center that was soft against the pads of Coulson’s fingers.

“Phil,” Jeffrey sighed quietly, barely heard, and Coulson glanced up again to realize that his eyes had drifted closed once more, his mouth parted slightly, a look of ecstasy on his face.

This was even better than the expression he’d made when he ate his ‘first’ freshly made cannoli.

Coulson slid his hands down Jeffrey’s torso, meticulously slow as he allowed the rise and fall of Jeffrey's breathing to shift his fingers against his skin. He felt ridiculously warm, his muscles quivering slightly as Coulson’s touch perhaps tickled him. Or maybe it was something else.

Slower than ever, Coulson moved his palms over the top of Jeffrey’s hips, his tongue darting against his lips as his eyes followed the tantalizing ghosting line of hair down Jeffrey’s abdomen, which eventually disappeared beneath the band of his underwear.

He almost felt like he was having an out of body experience as he dragged his hands down, pulling the waistband of his underwear a little further down with the movement. Jeffrey lifted his hips upward off the floor in response, moaning; the noise sparked straight down Coulson spine.

His hands met again, over Jeffrey’s groin now, but his gaze still rested on Jeffrey's face.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Coulson croaked, and his eyes drifted open, his expression glazed over and adoring.

Jeffrey’s hands drifted toward Coulson’s arms, gripping and pulling until Coulson retraced his previous path over Jeffrey’s body.

“Kiss me,” Jeffrey breathed, his tone low and rough, “please, Phil, kiss me,”

Coulson responded immediately now; his fingers darting over Jeffrey’s collarbone and neck and jaw, until they were carding through his hair and his mouth was pressing overtop of Jeffrey’s insistently.Jeffrey opened up beneath him, letting him dip his tongue inside and taste his mouth.

He moaned again, loud and throaty, and Coulson refocused outside of the touch of their mouths to realize he was sliding and pressing his body overtop Jeffrey’s, his suit no doubt extremely stimulating to Jeffrey’s oversensitive skin. He gripped his fingers against the back of Coulson’s shirt, beneath his jacket, wrinkling the material as he tried to pull Coulson impossibly closer.

He was harder now than he’d been before; Coulson could feel it even through his own layers of clothes, and Coulson mentally pulled himself together as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, putting some space between them, although their mouths were still glued together.

Jeffrey frowned against Coulson’s lips, his fingers pressing on the verge of painful against Coulson’s back.

“Jeff,” Coulson mumbled, gradually softening his kisses before he began to trail them along Jeffrey’s jaw. “Trust me?”

“Infinitely.” He replied immediately, trying to catch his breath. He pressed his knees together, around Coulson’s hips, trying to writhe up against him again.

“Lower your ass to the floor, then,” Coulson teasingly ordered, a small grin on his face. Jeffrey immediately — in such a way that Coulson felt another spark of arousal — listened to him, relaxing the grip of his knees on Coulson’s waist.

Coulson leaned back onto his own bent knees again, dragging his palms more firmly down Jeffrey’s chest as he went, pointedly rubbing calloused skin against his nipples.

“Fuck,” Jeffrey hissed, his spine arching off of the floor. Coulson had to close his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed with the urge to just yank all of his clothes off and pound him right into the rug.

Instead, he lightly scraped his nails across Jeffrey’s skin, down around his bellybutton, down along the lined dents of his hips, down over the gentle outward curve of his abdomen. Jeffrey’s muscles were quivering again, his skin flushed even more, as Coulson finally curled his fingers into Jeffrey’s underwear and tugged at it.

It was indeed surprisingly soft (probably much appreciated by the too-sensitive nerves Jeffrey had to deal with in this ‘new’ body), and after Coulson pulled the fabric up over Jeffrey’s bent knees and down off of his feet, he simply held onto it as he admired it for a moment.

“Phiiil,” Jeffrey whined, feeling a little neglected, and Coulson gave him an inscrutable look as he lifted the underwear up to his nose and breathed in. Jeffrey closed his eyes and thunked his head back down onto the floor, unable to keep watching as Coulson admired the scent of his arousal.

Coulson dropped the fabric off to the side as he scoot back a little, quickly removing his jacket before settling onto his stomach and devoting his hands, his mouth, and all of his enthusiasm toward discovering just how sensitive these parts of Jeffrey were, as well.

**———**

 

After Jeffrey lay on the floor, sprawled and gasping, Coulson simply smiled and stroked his fingers against his face and hair, putting him to sleep.

“We can take care of me later,” Coulson murmured quietly, watching him drift off. “Just sleep.”

His heart was overwhelmingly full as he watched Jeffrey doze, and he knew that it would be quite a while before he’d be able to look at him again without grinning like a dork. Ignoring his own aching arousal, eventually his body calmed down, and he snuggled a little closer to Jeffrey, curling against his side. His trousers and shirt probably weren’t as soft as Jeffrey’s own clothes, but Jeffrey merely smiled in his sleep and turned his head so his face was a little closer to Coulson.

Coulson didn’t sleep, but he did lay there and watch Jeffrey for quite a few minutes before he realized his phone was buzzing. Carefully extricating himself from the sleeping man, he snagged his suit jacket off of the floor and retrieved his phone from the pocket.

“Yes?” He answered quietly, stepping into the small washroom connected to Jeffrey’s room.

“Hey, where are you?” Daisy wondered. “We’ve got actionable intel on a rogue Inhuman and we need to find a way to contain them before we go fetch.”

“I’m... on my way. Meet you in the control room.” He replied, hanging up the phone. He sighed in disappointment as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a ruffled mess and his shirt was wrinkled. He didn’t have time to change, so he’d have to make do. He wet his hands at the sink and drew them over his hair until it was tamed, and untucked his shirt from his trousers so he could smooth it out as much as possible and tuck it back in.

Jeffrey was still asleep and the last thing Coulson wanted to do was leave him. Sighing quietly again, he jotted down a quick note and set it on top of Jeffrey’s discarded underwear, before snagging the throw blanket off of the bed and draping it carefully overtop of him. He crouched down to press a lingering kiss against his forehead.

“Duty calls...” He whispered with mild frustration. He made sure the door was still locked before he closed it behind him, so no one barged into the room to find a naked Jeffrey Mace laying in the middle of the floor.  


**———**

 

It took them all day to execute their retrieval and drop-off plan, and avoid the authorities, and then run a few surveillance detection routes to make sure they wouldn’t be followed as they headed back to Pieta. Coulson ended up joining the team, so he didn’t see Jeffrey again until they had returned, put all of the equipment away, and headed upstairs for food, drink, and sleep.

Hunter was in the middle of telling Bobbi a slightly more badass version of his part in the retrieval when Coulson turned from the hallway toward the kitchen and quite literally ran into Jeffrey.

“Sorry,” Coulson chuckled lightly, as Jeffrey grabbed onto his arms.

“You’re back!” Jeffrey smiled widely, and Coulson couldn’t help but smile back. Hunter and Bobbi had quickly returned to their own conversation over by the fridge, so Coulson dropped his voice a little and said,

“I’m sorry that I left earlier, I didn’t... that wasn’t cool. But this was time sensitive, and,”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeffrey replied easily, his thumbs rubbing soothingly against Coulson’s sleeves. “I slept _really_  well for an hour or two.” He grinned. “Turns out orgasms are pretty great for that.”

Coulson blushed slightly, but it seemed that everyone else in the kitchen was too busy doing their own things to listen in on his conversation. Jeffrey was still holding on to him, looking at him with that look that used to make Coulson feel uncomfortable but now made him... itchy.

“Jeff, you’ve gotta stop looking at me like that in public,” Coulson whispered warningly, chuckling a little as his heart skipped.

“I am in awe of you. I may always be.” Jeffrey replied earnestly. “I’m never going to be able to look at you without feeling the way you touch me,”

“Hey, Jeff!” Daisy looked up from the stove and noticed the two men standing in the doorway. “You hungry? I’m making mac-and-cheese!”

Thankfully Bobbi’s teasing of Daisy’s ‘college meal diet’ covered up Jeffrey’s low response,

“I’m starving.”

His eyes and expression made his innuendo incredibly clear to Coulson, and he licked his lips and swallowed, his gaze uncontrollably drifting down toward Jeffrey’s mouth.

“I’m actually pretty tired,” Coulson announced to the team, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky as it felt. “I’m gonna hit the hay. See you guys in the morning. Great job today.”

He stepped back, out of Jeffrey’s grasp, and without looking at any of the others, turned and headed toward his room.

“Okay. What about you, Jeff?” Coulson heard Daisy ask.

“Save me some for later?” He requested. “I have a thing... to do.”

“Oookay,” Daisy drawled, but Coulson stopped listening, because he could hear Jeffrey’s footsteps following down the hall. He left the door open behind him as he stepped into his room and began hurriedly peeling off his clothes, his fingers fumbling on his shirt buttons when he heard his bedroom door latch closed and lock.  


**———**

 

“Do you miss it?” Coulson wondered, idly brushing his fingers against Jeffrey’s chest. “Being able to go anywhere you want, in the blink of an eye? Being able to do all the things you could do? The power?”

“No.” Jeffrey answered, taking no time to think it over. Coulson popped his head up against his other hand, looking down at Jeffrey in surprise. Jeffrey shifted his head on the pillow so he could return Coulson’s gaze. “Being able to feel sunlight on my face, the touch of your hand against my chest,” He trailed his fingers across Coulson’s knuckles briefly, then slid his palm along Coulson’s arm. “Being able to touch you, and see you — truly _see_  you — that is all worth losing whatever I may have gained as ‘The Voice’.”

“But you could see people’s _aura's_ , I mean, that’s — ”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Jeffrey agreed, “and amazing. But it’s not your smile. It’s not your eyes when you look at me. Being... whatever I was, simply doesn’t compare with this. With humanity.” He slid his hand further up over Coulson’s shoulder and then down his side, tugging him close. “I get to do this,” He pointed out in amazement as he pulled Coulson on top of him and then trailed both hands down his back, over his butt, across his hips and back up again.

Coulson snickered and shifted, pleased by his touch though he was still too exhausted to do anything about it.

“I get to _touch_  you and make you smile because of it.” Jeffrey said with simple honesty. “That’s the greatest power I’ve ever had.”

Coulson rested his hands against either side of Jeffrey’s face as he looked down at him, completely overwhelmed by him once again. He couldn’t think of any words that were powerful enough to convey what he was feeling, so he leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep and as long as he could muster before his lungs screamed for air. Then he took a breath, and he did it again.  


**———**

 

Maybe it was cheesy and predictable, but it was the little things Coulson adored the most.

Jeffrey brushing his hand overtop of Coulson’s knuckles and fingers whenever they were near each other; whether it be in the kitchen or in a meeting.

Jeffrey’s eyes lingering over Coulson as if he were seeing something more than just what stood in front of him; as if he could still see Coulson’s ‘aura’ that he was so fond of talking about.

The way Jeffrey kissed him when they were alone; reverent and gentle, his lips soft and responsive against Coulson’s before it inevitably transitioned into something more desperate and intent.

How Jeffrey held his hand when they went out about the town, usually early in the morning to avoid the large tourist traffic. How Jeffrey wasn’t afraid to lean against him as they walked, or kiss his cheek in a random moment merely because he wanted to.

How he trusted Coulson to hold him when the night terrors came, and his gentleness when Coulson himself experienced nightmares.

His sweet nature when work was rough and Coulson was feeling beat down, and his voraciousness in bed when Coulson returned to base after some time away.

The very best thing, though, was how easily and frequently Jeffrey professed his love. Not just what he felt for Coulson, but how he felt about his friends as well. Coulson never tired of it. Jeffrey was a force of positivity that the team craved; his optimistic attitude, while occasionally annoying at times, played a big part in their healing process. While the rest of the world was out for blood, he was their biggest cheerleader.

Of course, Coulson didn’t dare call him that out loud.

"Have you told him, yet?" Daisy interrupted his thoughts, asking him a question that had become common on her lips. He sighed.

"Daisy,"

"Damn it, Phil, you make me want to smack you sometimes." She scowled at him, and he raised his eyebrows at her in surprise at her candor. "Tell him. Tonight." She ordered.

"Tell who what?" He challenged, only succeeding in making himself seem like a dumbass. They both knew very well what she was talking about. Daisy narrowed her eyes at him.

"All I ever see when the two of you are in a room together is him getting all heart-eyed over you. He loves you, Phil, and I know damn well that you love him, too.  _Tell him_."

"Who says he doesn't already know?" Coulson challenged petulantly, and Daisy snorted and folded her arms across her chest.

"As if the two of you would be able to keep your hands off of one another. I've  _seen_ the way he is with stuff now, the way he enjoys touch and taste and sight. He'd probably have his hands on you twenty-four-seven for the rest of your lives, if he could get away with it."

Coulson hoped he wasn't as red as he felt, thinking about just how right she was. It  _was_ becoming more and more difficult to extricate themselves from bed some mornings. At least this was proof to him that he and Jeffrey were doing well to hide how close they've become. They didn't want to share their relationship with anyone else yet; they wanted their privacy. But if Daisy was really this bothered by it... Coulson knew that she cared about him, about both of them. She just wanted them to be happy.

"Daisy..." Coulson considered what to tell her, exactly. How to tell her. He half-smiled, and her eyes widened. Before either of them could say anything else, though, footsteps sounded quickly into the living room.

"We've got a problem," Jeffrey announced worriedly. "the truck won't start; Daisy, maybe if you could focus your powers on the engine block, give it a good kick-start, Mack thinks that might help,"

Daisy and Coulson both relaxed and sighed, having thought it was something a little more serious than mechanic troubles.

"Sure, Jeff, but wait here for a minute. Coulson has something he wants to tell you," She gave Coulson a pointed look, clearly not having quite believed him although she had to suspect  _something_ after the face she had just made.

"Yeah," Coulson agreed, not waiting until Daisy left before grabbing at Jeff's greasy shirt with both hands and yanking him forward, planting his mouth roughly against his.

"Mmph," Jeffrey grunted in surprise, but then immediately curled his fingers around Coulson's waist and kissed him back. It was definitely not of the 'first kiss' variety.

"Well." Daisy said rather calmly. "I'll be damned."

Coulson maneuvered his mouth, sliding his tongue against Jeffrey's lips until Jeffrey opened up for him and allowed him to deepen the kiss. Jeffrey hummed pleasantly, and Coulson opened one eye to catch Daisy's smirk as she strolled slowly out of the room.

"I'm glad to be proven wrong in this case," She amended, holding her hands up in the air as she disappeared around the corner. Coulson smiled against Jeffrey's mouth, and kissed him for a few moments longer before finally pulling back.

"What... what was that for?" Jeffrey wondered breathlessly, delighted nonetheless.

"I've come to realize," Coulson spoke slowly as he considered his words purposefully, "how rare, and beautiful, it is that we exist." He rested his palms against Jeffrey's cheeks, looking him directly in the eyes so he would understand how serious Coulson was being right now. "I love you."

Jeffrey's lips parted slightly as his eyes filled with wonder, and then he beamed.

"Say it again." He requested softly, his fingers gripping Coulson's waist just a little tighter. Coulson rubbed his thumbs against Jeffrey's skin, smiling as he repeated himself,

"I love you."

Jeffrey's laugh was almost a giggle more than anything else, and he leaned in to give Coulson a long, passionate, warm kiss. He began to laugh again, and rested his forehead against Coulson's as he had to end their kiss to let his laughter out. Coulson smiled as well, heart-warmed by his joy.

"I love you, too!" Jeffrey finally managed to say, as if he'd been holding it in forever, just waiting on Coulson to say it first. Coulson chuckled as Jeffrey tried to kiss him again but was smiling too much to make it proper. "I love you, I love you, I love you," He said over and over again, kissing Coulson between his words, his hands sliding around Coulson's back to hold him close.

Coulson wrapped his arms around Jeffrey as well, knowing that Daisy was right about some things. He was never going to let Jeff go.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Venus,_ Sleeping At Last  
>  _Saturn,_ Sleeping At Last
> 
> And a link to a quick photo edit I'd created a little while back in reference to "The Patriot's Song", before I'd decided to write this fic - https://captainskyson.tumblr.com/post/166223390860/you-taught-me-the-courage-of-stars-before-you-left  
> Thank you, again, for joining me on this adventure. It has been a particular favorite of mine to write and will always hold a special place in my heart.


End file.
